


The Divorce

by writingisbliss



Category: Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Divorce, Explicit Sexual Content, Family, M/M, Mental Instability, batfam, ex sex is the best they say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2020-07-27 05:36:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 52,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20040772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingisbliss/pseuds/writingisbliss
Summary: Children are disappearing in Gothem, Bruce has to scrape himself off the floor after his divorce and John has to pick up the pieces of his life to investigate. Too bad their more concerned with getting the last jab in at each other as bitter enemies then worrying about their common enemy.Falling out of love was easy. Keeping it that way might be harder than the mighty Batman can withstand.





	1. The Baby Shower

**Author's Note:**

> I've been having a hell of time lately. Thought posting some dark Bruce/John would lift my mood. Keep in mind I abandoned this story a long time ago. I go back to it once and while but updates are not promised.

One year ago

“If you are uncomfortable we can leave.” Bruce had killed the engine only seconds before. They sat in front of the Kent Farm, it was decorated in blue balloons for the baby shower. Several cars were parked along the dirt road leading up to the farm house. Everyone was inside and Bruce wanted to be back in Gotham. Smallville was too damn bright and depressingly cheerful. There were a thousand other things he could be doing now. Ivy was on the loose, Freeze was laying low but he was building his resources. The prostitute murders case was still open. Alfred, Tiffany, Dick and Jason were on it and they had forced Bruce to attend. Traitors.

“I’m not afraid of them.” John commented. He rarely interacted with the WAGs of the league. Being a male among them and a hero in his own right did not win him friends. Lois was kind but she was also a reporter and reporters dig. The Pyg murders were well known and it didn’t take long to connect John Wayne to John Doe. Batman had made it very clear no one was to discuss this topic in front of his husband or they would _regret it_. Flash had been on the receiving end of his ire once and once was enough to put the fear of God into everyone else.

“Of course not love, you are the envy of everyone in the room.” Bruce replied secretly outlining an extraction plan if Jean Fucking Loring started her clique shit in front of his spouse again. John was uneasy with anyone he didn’t know well and Jean had the audacity to prey upon that because his marriage was deliriously happy. Meanwhile Ray Palmer was still deciding to go through with the divorce or not. One word from Bruce and Jean’s day could be ruined. Bruce comforted himself with that knowledge as John got out of the car straightening his clothes.

He wore a black button down silk shirt, a white blazer and beige khakis. His face devoid of makeup and his green hair styled to the side in an effort to look as presentable as possible. It was moments like this that made Bruce’s heart ache. John was trying, if only Bruce could assure him that it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. In Gotham they worshipped the ground he walked due to the family name. Outside, in the wilds of Kansas, people didn’t have the common sense to treat John as a he rightly deserved.

Bruce silently admitted he was being over protective. He had to take a breath and force himself to relax or John would become tenser. After seven years of marriage they were acutely attuned to the subtle shifts in mood. No one knew Bruce better than John, not even Alfred.

Taking John’s clammy hand he pulled the door open on the party and braced himself.

If it had been Bruce, if it was his heir, there would be a classy party at the manor. The decorations crystal and champagne. There would be a receiving line with John, himself, Dick, Jason and Alfred followed by lunch and cocktails. Gifts discreetly dropped into the ballroom to be opened out of the view after the party. A champagne toast in honor of the new prince or princess. There would be Tiffany rattles, handmade expensive rocking horses, stuffed bears made with real fur and luxurious platinum baby accessories. 

Not whatever the fuck this was.

Paper streamers covering a chair in the corner where all the women converged around Lois. A store bought slab cake, a punch bowl with red plastic cups lined up. A variety of finger sandwiches-the crusts not removed. Alfred would disapprove. Bruce might as well forgo his Versace black suit and donned jean coveralls. At any minute he might actually start chewing tobacco and spitting in the jar in the corner. 

“You made it!” The proud papa was carrying two heavy coolers one handed. Bruce grasped the man of steels open hand. Clark looked the same, late night feedings didn’t really faze a man who technically didn’t need to sleep. He piled the coolers, filled with cheap beer and booze-_Good God was that actually Mike’s Hard Lemonade_\- next to the table in the kitchen.

“Our gift is being delivered soon.” John had been checking the app religiously. He spoke the magic words for a loading truck came bounding down the lane. Lois joined them at the door as the guests surged after her. Her eyes went ridiculously wide at the crib that was off loaded. It had cost several thousand dollars after all.

“The Lullie Crib. You got us a Lullie.” Clark repeated stunned.

Bruce shrugged, John had ordered the damn thing and he reaped the reward for his efforts with a rapturous smile.

“Of course you did.” Jean muttered darkly and Bruce shot her a warning glance. She glared right back. So Ray had proceeded with the divorce. Good on him.

“This is too much.” Clark stammered as the men dropped it, already assembled on the front porch.

“It’s already here, might as well take it upstairs to the baby’s room.” John suggested with a small giggle that set Bruce’s nerves on alert. Chuckles he could handle however giggles were a danger zone sign.

Before John could have a nervous breakdown over a social flux pass all in his head there was a loud wail. Clark reacted by turning into a blur as he raced up the stairs. Ma Kent’s reproachful voice berated him over scaring the baby who immediately stopped shouting his lungs out. Everyone waited watching as Clark walked down holding the swaddled tiny bundle. Lois’s eyes glazed over with a look of deep resonating love and Bruce stifled a swift pang at the sight.

“Everyone, may I present the guest of honor. Jonathan Kent.” Clark announced. Barry Allen subtly shifted five dollars into Bruce’s hand. Of course the old softie would name his boy after his dad. It was a given.

“He’s beautiful.” John commented with a look so gentle it caught Bruce off guard.

“Do you want to hold him? You are after all his favorite uncles.” Clark said as he held out the tiny thing.

John moved back holding up his hands as if Clark had offered an explosive. “Oh no- I have no idea-”

“Like this.” Lois said easing the babe’s head into the crook of his elbow and placing his other hand to support the rest. John’s face lit up, he whispered hellos and cooed at the little boy who gazed at him before letting out the biggest and cutest yawn. In that moment Bruce was struck by the sight before him and vision of a future he never thought he’d want. It sucker punched his stomach and the vice like grip around his heart was one he couldn’t break.

John and a baby boy. Or girl. He wasn’t picky. He was staring and he couldn’t dredge up the self respect to stop. 

“Kind of catches you off guard, doesn’t it?” Clark whispered in his ear before John quickly handed off the babe to Diana who was demanding her turn. He looked a little forlorn when the little boy left his arms.

The truth was they were all entering their late twenties, early thirties. All the ones that were still alive. Dating had become marriage now, children were slowly entering the picture. Bruce noted Iris West was drinking water and Barry was subtly taking notes. There might be more Lullie purchases in his future. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Bruce remarked without his usual bite.

“Of course not.”

“Shut up.”

“Thank you for the crib.”

“Thank John.”

“You still have my gift Bruce. We’re here to help if you need it.”

“That’s what nannies and Alfred are for.”

Clark laughed clapping him on the back.

They stayed the entire time. Diana and John both vying for the most time with Jonathan Kent before his mother played her trump card. It wasn’t all bad, the men drank on the porch and the women played games inside. John went back and forth between the two groups, smiling and to Bruce’s great relief enjoying himself. He even helped Ma Kent with the spread inside. Soon night had fallen and it was time to leave. Lois had kissed John on the cheek and whispered a tired thank you before taking the baby up to their room.

John was silent on the way home. Bruce reached out to grasp his hand. “I think perhaps we should talk.”

The look that John gave him was one filled with sorrow. “We’ve had this talk.”

“In our twenties we had this talk. We’re pass thirty now.”

“We have Dick and Jason.”

“We need more than them. Jason may be young but he’s thirteen. In no time he’ll be off on his own as his older brother before him. It’s time John.”

John turned around in his seat to lean his head on Bruce’s shoulder. He smelled of citrus and Bruce inhaled deeply. John’s voice was small when he spoke. “Only if you want to.”

“We raised Dick, survived Jason, how hard could it honestly be after that.” Bruce joked and John chuckled into his neck.

“We should hold a family meeting.” John suggested, going full steam ahead now that Bruce was on the same page. “I would have to step down as the Jester. Focus on staying home and caring for our…baby.”

Bruce could see the wheels turning in his head. He expected to feel the rise of panic but there was a sense of great adventure. On the day he declared his eternal love and devotion to John, Bruce had felt the universe shift into place. Right now he felt that same force of destiny.

“I would be around to help of course.” Bruce was already starting to plan. His commitment to Gotham was ever imperative however the babe would need him the first year. Patrols would have to be cut short. Dick would have to shoulder more responsibility and Jason’s training would need to increase. The security updated in the manor. The baby’s room needed an escape room to the cave built. It had to be done privately and the plans destroyed soon after to ensure no one but the family knew about it.

“Alfred will help.” John protested gently.

“No dear. I will help. My war is never ending. It can stand a brief slack in duty.” Bruce said sternly.

“Are you sure?” John was trying to be calm but Bruce could feel his eagerness.

Bruce was convinced. One look of the tiny bundle in John’s arms and he was sold.

“Our baby shower is not going to have paper streamers or coolers. For Gods sakes what the hell was with that cake? It was more icing then substance.” Bruce complained.

John chuckled and his eyes were shining with fondness. “Snob.”

“Explain to me how the hell you screw up cake?”

“Oh God, it’s our wedding all over again.”

One year later.

“Excuse me. Lullie and Co.”

Mark Jankins had worked a long hard day. This was the last stop before he called it quits. He had knocked on the large wooden door, hat in hand respectfully, before Bruce Wayne opened it. He surveyed Mark before him with an indifference so cold it made him shrink back in response.

“Yes?” The billionaire asked tersely.

“Mr. Wayne, we have a Lullie Crib to deliver.” Mark gestured to the loading truck and the boys standing around it.

There wasn’t even a flicker of delight Mark was used to seeing. “I thought my butler got in contact with the Lullie Company five months ago. I no longer require my purchase.”

Jesus, this was one hard man. “Sorry Mr. Wayne but we haven’t received word of cancelation.”

Bruce glared, mouth set in a firm line. “Not my problem.”

He went to close the door. 

“But sir, what are we going to do with the crib?” Mark asked. This was highly irregular. Even if the expecting couple didn’t want the Lullie, which was a first in his long line of service to Lullie and Co., they usually took it off his hands. There were smiles, a joke or even a fond look. Mr. Wayne looked ready to set it on fire with a hatred that burned the air around him.

“I _do not_ care. Break it down and use it for kindling. Just get it off my property.”

He slammed the door shut so hard it rattled in place.


	2. The Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason Todd Wayne died and here's what happened when he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where Bruce ends up sliding into what is commonly referred to as BatGod. He is able to do all and be all, and he's a freaking jerkass of a person. I hate BatGod honestly, I like Bruce more when he cares. And John, you bet he'd be out of his mind.

Bruce didn’t know what he had until he lost it all. 

All that was left was a grave and remnants of the past. Just like the first time. He didn’t learn his lesson then but he sure as hell learned it now. 

The white robed father spoke clearly around the beige marble mausoleum. “Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul of our dear Jason Todd Wayne departed, we therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ; who shall-”

The official story they told everyone was just a slap in the face to the memory of the boy they had loved. Jason Todd Wayne died joy riding in Bruce’s Porsche. The autopsy waved under the cover of religion to protect his double identity.

Bane had killed him. Pummeled him until he was choking on his own blood one month ago.

Bruce’s eyes shifted to John across from him at the edge of the grave. He was wearing a heavy black wool coat and underneath white Arkham scrubs. Even now, at their worst, Bruce wanted to enfold him in an embrace and weather the storm together.

The night Jason died John had removed his wedding ring. The one that monitored his medication, then he screwed with the Bat Computer to give false readings and stopped taking his anti-psychotics. He chose to throw away seven years of marriage and love for revenge.

By the time he was done Bane nearly lost his life and Bruce lost more than a partner. He lost his sacred marriage and his best friend. John had thrown it all away without a backward fucking glance. It was right that Bruce served him divorce papers while he was inside. He was on the pills again but the damage was done. Nothing he said, nothing he did, could change the past.

The priest turned his attention to them. “If there are any who wish to speak-”

“Carry on father. No one gets to speak.” Bruce commanded robbing John of his one chance to say a few words. John flinched and wrapped his arms around himself. Bruce ignored the bruises on his wrists. It wasn’t his fucking problem anymore. His hands fisted. Dr. Leland didn’t send progress reports after a blistering phone call from him. The world at large knew not to mention his name to Bruce.

Not after all he did, not for what he said, and certainly not for forcing Bruce to make the ultimate sacrifice by saving the _monster_ who took Jason from them. It’s not as if he didn’t want to kill Bane but he knew if he slipped, if he let Bane bleed out and die, it would be the end of Batman. He took Bane away to the hospital as John spat in his face screaming that he hated him.

That’s all that they had now. Hatred. 

“Sir. If I may?” Alfred spoke. Bruce nodded curtly in his direction.

“If you must.” Bruce’s words were clipped.

There were other things to do. Children were disappearing in Gotham. There was a trend that Gordon had found before Bane came and ripped everything away from him. They needed him. Gotham demanded his attention, he didn’t have time to waste on the dead. If grieving could bring back Jason he would shed tears without end and drown the world. It hadn’t brought his parents back. It wouldn’t bring back their lost child either. Bruce was no good to any one if he was emotionally compromised. He chose to do what he did best in these bleak times, he found a hole to bury all his feelings. He locked them down and tossed away the key.

Even the faint warm glimmers of love for his ex.

“Jason Todd was a troubled youth.”

_ He was angry but we were getting through to him._

“But he found a measure of peace within the Wayne home.”

_ Wayne house, it’s just a building now._

“He left this world knowing he was loved. I pray his spirit finds peace in the afterlife.” Alfred choked up and Bruce flinched. John shifted in place, tears lining his face. Bruce hated that he wanted to tenderly brush them away with his thumb.

With no one left to speak they started to lower the casket into the ground.

Memories went on fast forward. A street boy stealing his hub caps. Bringing the boy home to John who fussed over his appetite and insisted he spend the night while they figured out what to do with him. Having to track Jason down after he stole the Robin costume and the Batmobile. Dick coming back to the fold and bonding with Jason as if he had been part of the family the entire time. The feelings of pride at how well Jason’s training was proceeding. Deciding to adopt again because they couldn’t stand to part with him. Getting him into the private school Dick had attended, getting him to go to school _period_. Pancakes on the weekends, feet pounding outside his bedroom door while John tried to sneak in a little ‘them’ time.

They had loved him as they had Dick. While Dick took after Bruce for the most part, Jason had been Johns. Bruce had a picture in a silver frame on his desk of the two of them and when prompted he used to tell people they were his two peas in a pod. 

The picture was ripped up and the frame smashed to pieces. 

John was howling, his face buried in his hands and shoulders shaking as Dick wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Their oldest glared Bruce down threw his own tears. Whatever bridge John had built between them was burnt by their divorce.

_ Ungrateful, spoiled, brat._ Bruce’s resentful sneer had no effect. In a moment of sheer pettiness Bruce blamed him. If Dick hadn’t chafed under the Robin mantle none of this would have happened. He blamed everyone and the _whole of Gotham_ was going to pay for his suffering. 

“Alfred let’s go.” Bruce turned on his heel. He left John to pour his heart out over the dirt while he focused on the next big case instead of those mournful sobs. One day he wouldn’t feel the tug at his heart or the urge to seek comfort with his ex. 

“Sir shouldn’t we-”

“No.”

They walked out of the long marble hall to the forest where the entrance to the private stone graveyard opened up to the right side of his property line. Ignoring the gaping hole in his chest he walked up the veranda towards the kitchen.

The pool they installed years ago was empty, algae gathering across the spots on the bottom. Memories of lazy summers spent around laughing kids cannoning balling into the water and warm nights sitting out on the patio with friends for Sunday night dinner were still lingering in the air haunting him. He made a mental note to have it bulldozed at the first available opportunity. There would be no more children.

Perhaps he should set fire to the whole place. Let the memories go up in smoke and give himself some measure of fucking_ peace_.

“I’ll need those reports from Gordon,” Bruce shed his black jacket as they entered the library.

“Sir if I may.” Alfred tried again.

“I’ll also need to cross reference and confirm the number of missing children that happen within the fifteen year time span. Excluding ones that go missing every year without a connection to the numbered group that keep popping up. Those who were found during the time span need to be weeded out into a separate folder for further cross examination. We might get lucky and there might be a witness.” Bruce needed to work. He couldn’t stop for if he did he would lost to the ocean of misery he refused to acknowledge.

“Sir, Master John has requested to speak with you.” Alfred said sternly as Bruce put the passcode into the master clock.

“He can talk to my lawyers.” Bruce didn’t even look at Al.

“Yes but sir-”

Now he was pissed. Bruce rounded on the last remaining member of the family and ground out between clenched teeth. “Read my lips Alfred. _I do not care_. He had every available opportunity to talk to me when we were married. He chose not to so why would I give a shit now? Because he’s sane again? _So what_? He made his bed he can damn well lie in it without me.”

Alfred’s eyes went flat. “Sir, punishing him will only lead to your suffering.”

Bruce barked out a bitter laugh. “I can shoulder it. I’m Batman.”

“But you don’t have too. For ten years you had him. Haven’t you learned that Batman cannot fight the world alone?”

Bruce’s face clouded over as the Bat saturated every cell of his body. His voice was all malice and strength.

“And look how that ended. I was better off alone.”

Dick was disgusted with Bruce. Thoroughly, utterly, repulsed by his adoptive dad. He had walked out of the graveyard without a backward glance at his husband. John was still levelling out but he was mostly back. The Joker locked down in a place within him. Even though he kept his eyes on the grave diggers Dick could see him glance at Bruce’s back with a look so filled with yearning it was a mystery that the ‘world’s greatest detective’ couldn’t feel it burrowing between his shoulder blades.

“Come on Pops, let’s get you back to the van.” Dick urged gently. It landed on his shoulders to look after John and he was more than willing to take on the task after Bruce shut him out of his life. God damn that control freak had tossed John to the wolves.

“Perhaps if I try again.” John muttered distractedly. The orderlies were watching him like a hawk.

“Try what chuckles?” Dick asked as they slowly started walking away. He glared the Arkham employees back. He had seen the bruises and so had Bruce. Not that it had any effect on that motherfucker.

“If I just ask to see him face-to-face maybe we could talk. We were always good at talking.” John murmured into his shoulder. At eighteen years of age Dick could put a chin on top of John’s green head. He did so as John looked over at the filled in grave site with red rimmed eyes. God how could Bruce do it? Didn’t he understand that _everyone_ was hurting over Jason?

“Don’t think he’s going to listen.” Dick offered gently. He had so much to do. He was enrolling in the police academy, he had moved to Blüdhaven to get out from under Bruce’s thumb, gotten his own apartment with Pops help before the shit hit the fan. It was a one bedroom but Dick could move out of his room onto the pull out couch when John was released in a few weeks. Dr. Leland had warned him Pops might need more time once he was sane enough to realize the divorce was moving forward.

He still believed that Bruce would come visit him some days. Christ when Bruce set his mind to it he could really go for the jugular.

“He has too.” John reasoned. “He has to see that it was all a big mistake. I’m sorry short round. I’m so sorry.”

Dick’s heart bled. “It’s ok, I know.”

“We’ve been through so much. Ten years. It has to count for something.” John was becoming agitated. Dick panicked. He had no idea how to sooth him. Bruce was the expert in that area. All the books he read, all the tips Dr. Leland supplied, went out the window.

“I don’t know what to say. We’ll make it through.” Dick tried rubbing his arm only for John to shield away from him.

“He knows I love him. I just wasn’t thinking. Can you tell him that?” John’s voice was colored with a need so desperate Dick fervently wished never to fall in love. Not when it reduced him to _this_.

The orderlies were moving in. One grabbed his arm and John jumped as if he had forgotten they were there. He struggled to pull free as the other took out a syringe.

“Hey now, don’t do that.” Dick pleaded. The wild look of horror on Pop's face as they manhandled him was cut into his memories painfully with a dull knife.

“Dick get your father! Don’t let them take me! _This is my home!_” John wailed as the orderly shoved the needle in. Dick flinched when John finally sank to the ground, pupils blown wide, face going slack as the drugs kicked in. He knew the cameras had caught everything. As the orderlies dragged Pops off he turned to face one and raised his middle finger.

_ Hope you enjoyed the show you miserable piece of shit._


	3. All That's Left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John makes a hard choice and if Bruce is so OVER their marriage why is he acting possessive about items belonging to that closed chapter of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mentioned the case of the missing children but there's a few more chapters of suffering before it really kicks off. I want to really kick the boys when they're down so all lines of communication are closed when the shit really does hit the fan. Bear with me. 
> 
> You can also find my tumblr page. https://writingisbliss.tumblr.com/

John packed up his meager belongings. The room was sparse now. No more letters to carry home and no flowers other than the wild ones Dick dropped off to lighten up the place. They had wilted long before his last visit. There was no three piece suit. John wore a white button down and black slacks. Dick had nipped his leopard print shoes out of the manor house before Bruce shoved the rest of his belongings into storage. He would petition the courts to have half his wardrobe returned. There were thousands of dollars invested in his clothes. Never mind the jewelry.

He glanced at his wedding rings and steeled himself before grasping the bands. He pulled them free and put them into his pants pocket. The engagement ring had always been heavy. A comforting weight on his slender digit when gold diggers of both sexes went sniffing after Bruce. To rip it off left his ring finger naked for the first time in seven years. He could not bear to have the press take pictures of them and chuckle at his misery. The world at large was laughing at John Doe. Bruce had waited a whole two weeks after the funeral to start dating again.

Poor old Brucie was fucking half the available women and some married ones in the effort to forget all about his husband rotting away in the insane asylum if the tabloids were to be believed.

The only time John heard directly from him was through his lawyers. They had the first divorce meeting in two days. Not enough time for John to scrape up the self-respect or confidence to pull himself together. Bruce did it on purpose to leave him reeling. He was doing a lot of shit that was not flying with John any more.

He understood his reasons for the divorce no matter how much it hurt. He even understood the anger that had Gotham General’s emergency room filled to the brim with injured criminals. The GCPD were running ragged to keep up with him and Gordon kept the Bat Signal off in retaliation to Bruce’s temper tantrum. Gotham had been a right mess the last time Bruce had a bristle in his Bat boot about Dick leaving. God only knows when he’ll run out of steam now that he didn’t have the Jester to crawl home to and sooth his fragile ego.

On top of that Bruce Wayne was also being a colossal asshole. What John could not forgive him, even after all he did to him, was how he was treating their son. Dick had been cut off last week at a time when he was carrying the world on his shoulders. He was eighteen years old for fucks sakes. He deserved to be getting into trouble with his buddies at a bar not taking the blunt of Bruce’s emotional retribution. Dick had enough to cover rent for a while but if they were living together expenses were going to pile up. John had to find work ASAP if they were going to survive until he could get some alimony.

That’s all that he had now. Survival.

There would be no more Sunday night dinners among friends. God all their ‘friends’ wouldn’t receive him now. They had to be laughing their asses off. The freak kicked to the sidelines, the outsider getting what he deserved. Alone and now without hope or love.

It took three months for him to accept that Bruce wasn’t going to talk with him. Two more weeks on top of that for him to scrawl his name to the divorce papers without soaking them in his tears. He was a right fucking mess and now a burden on their son. In the span of a second, the moment he sunk his smiling daggers into Bane’s stomach, he lost _everything_. God what was he going to do now?

John raked his hands through his hair for the millionth time at the thought. 

“Are you ready?” Dr. Leland asked softly.

“Sure thing Doc. Just saying good bye to the place.”

The jail cell that had seen him rock back and forth drooling in a corner. He should stop the pills and stay. What did he really have going for him anyway?

He had Dick.

He had to be strong to get Dick to talk to Bruce and secure his future. He had nothing else but the clothes on his back. He didn’t even have his makeup. Fuck, what wouldn’t he give just for some crazy eye shadow? The press had been lurking for days at the gates waiting to take his picture. The last time he walked a red velvet carpet he wore a silver Gucci sequence jacket and accented it with eyeshadow comprised of a few thousand dollars of diamonds that glittered in the light. Bruce on his arm and an arm around Jason’s shoulders. The press went fucking wild for him and he had posed to accentuate his lean figure. Now look at him.

The divorcee with nothing to his name. It was enough to send him running for the covers.

Straightening his spine he picked up his ruck sack of mementoes and started the process of getting the fuck out of Arkham.

“It’s ok if you don’t feel ready.” Dr. Leland offered with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I’m fine.”

“Ok John but we’re here if you ever need us.”

He was _never_ coming back. The injections against his will, the white uniform, all of it stank of Dr. Strange and Waller too much. He could do this.

“I’ll be ok Doc. See you next Thursday?”

“Of course Mr. Way-Doe.” Dr. Leland grimaced and John stumble with his footing for a moment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s ok.” Tears were starting to gather in his eyes again. God damn it he was not going to face the reporters with them streaming down his face. Taking a steady breath he filled out the paper work and signed his release. He glanced at the doors.

“Dick is here to pick you up.” Dr. Leland assured him.

“Right.”

Yet he couldn’t move. If he did he would have to face the fact it was over. That Jason was never going to run down the stairs at Wayne Manor to toss himself into his arms. That he wouldn’t be sharing a bed with Bruce as the sun rose over Gotham.

That this cold nightmare was truly his reality.

He couldn’t lollygag here all day putting it off. _Come on,_ his conscious urged, _best to get it over with_.

Gathering whatever shred of poise he had left he stepped through the doors and the sea of cameras nearly blinded him. Dick was quick to rush up the stairs and tuck him under his arm escorting him to the beat up Dodge Charger sitting in front of the stairs.

“It’s ok Pops. Don’t worry about them.” Dick said soothingly as he opened the door and helped John in before shooting the paparazzi death glares. He slid into the driver’s seat and started up the car. For a brief moment John panicked the old bucket wouldn’t even start before the engine turned and they managed to leave Arkham behind. John glanced at it in the rearview mirror.

“I’ve got a job lined up.” Dick said as he steered them towards the gates. His knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel. “Haley’s Circus is hiring.”

“What about the police academy?” John asked deeply unsettled.

“We need the money.”

“You need a future. You’re a little too old to be running away to the circus.”

“We’ll talk about it later.”

Dick was trying to be an adult. At one point in time John Doe Wayne would insist Bruce cover the expenses and Bruce would agree because he cared about their son’s future.

John Doe Wayne was dead. The Jester had killed him the moment he tried to kill Bane.

_ May he rest in peace._ John reflected wearily as the reporters pushed up against the car vying for the best view of his suffering. At one time the Waynes were a staple of Gotham life, they had the fairytale marriage. The empire was crumbling down now and no one wanted to miss the show.

John hung his head wishing, yet again, he hadn’t let grief cloud his judgement. The wedding rings heavy in his pocket.

An idea sprung to mind.

“Hey kiddo. Let’s visit Uncle Noah.” John made his mind up.

“Yeah, sure, we can do that. You itching to get a second hand laptop or a cell phone?” Dick asked confused.

“Something like that.”

It was almost surreal.

“Are you sure about this?” Noah had come through.

The rings were on a black velvet display case next to a stack of money. Fifteen thousand for the engagement ring and three thousand for the wedding band. John wanted to snatch them back. They were _his_. They were all he had left of Bruce and the years of love that followed their wedding.

“I’m sure. Thanks Noah.” John yanked the money off the table and pocketed it. He glanced once more over his shoulder at the rings shining in the shitty store light before running out the door. His legs shaking as he fought the urge to call the whole thing off. He had to do this. Dick needed the money. What did they matter anymore anyway? Bruce was never going to take him back.

And yet the idea of giving away the symbol of their marriage was shattering what was left of his heart. In a moment where he knew nothing but despair he realized, with blinding clarity, that he still loved Bruce. Hopelessly, devotedly and passionately. It was in him to love him until the day he died. The door glass door to the shop shut with a whoosh and John remembered the look in Bruce’s eyes when he slid the engagement ring onto his finger. 

“Pops?”

John sank into his older sons arms. “It’s ok kid. I got some money. Let’s take care of your finances.”

Dick’s face went ashen as his eyes snapped to the money lining John’s pockets. “What did you do?”

“Nothing illegal. Now tell me about the enrollment fees for the academy over a burger. When was the last time you ate?”

Noah was putting the rings away in his safe when the door chimed again.

“I had a feeling you would-”

His voice failed when he turned to see Bruce Wayne lean against the glass display case. He looked pale, restless as he rubbed his hands together. The skin along the knuckles was rough with callouses. No one would believe this poor shell of a man was the same one from the photos in the Gotham Gazette. There was no blonde bimbo draping herself all over his arm. No confidence or playfulness. He was dressed in a charcoal gray suit and black button down shirt. The gold ace of spades cufflinks flashed in the light.

“The rings please.” Bruce whispered reaching for his wallet.

The ones John had dropped in his lap not more than a half an hour ago. Noah glanced at the Wayne Tech cameras. He would have to replace them with Lex Corp ones the next time he put in an order.

Noah put his hands on the glass counter ready to enjoy the next few seconds. “Not for sale.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed and a look so dark crossed his face it made Noah step back momentarily. 

“Why not?” Bruce graveled.

“These belonged to Louis XVI of France. A gift from his queen in the early 17th century. It’s kind of funny, that marriage ended a little more badly than yours.” Noah’s chuckles turned into shrieks when Bruce Wayne gripped him by the back of his neck and slammed his head into the display case. It cracked the glass on impact. Bruce held him there with barely suppressed fury.

“I’m so glad you find the situation funny. The rings. _Now Noah_.”

Noah reminded himself that Bruce wouldn’t truly hurt him. He forced himself to relax, ignored the throbbing in his left temple from where his head banged off the glass counter top and spoke.

“Not for sale. Not to you.” Noah braced himself as the glass shattered when Bruce drove his fist into the case. At least he wrapped it in his coat pocket. Blood was never easy to get out of the cell phones.

“Oh come on man.” Noah groaned uneasy as his head hung over the jagged pieces. Ok now he was panicking a little. Bruce was being a little too rough for his liking. 

“Sell me the rings.” Bruce hissed. “Before your face goes through the next display case.”

“Still not for sale.” Noah waited and nearly jumped out of his skin when Bruce’s hand retreated.

“Fine.”

Bruce stormed out slamming the door for good measure.

The next morning Noah came to work he stopped, taking in the sight of his front door sitting busted on the floor and the glass shattered everywhere. Pushing through the crowd of spectators he found good old GCPD doing what they did best. Investigating the crime and no doubt helping themselves to whatever was left in the store.

Sighing in aggravation he approached the yellow tape.

“Back off bud, police crime scene.” One little boy in blue barked at him.

“Owner of the establishment. I would like to take inventory.” And remove the books he kept in his office, the cooked ones.

“This way, hey Harvey we got the owner!” Boy in blue shouted at a large man off in the distance.

“You own the joint?” Harvey spoke around a large donut. Noah reined in his temper. Clearly the investigator wasn’t in a rush to solve this case or remove himself from the store that screamed ‘_obvious front for nefarious deeds!_’

“Yes and I would like to properly assess the damage.” Noah could see that the rack of official merchandise was still were it belonged. The glass cases were left alone save the one Bruce Wayne had wrecked with his fist. There was extra damage this morning to his office door. It was ripped off the hinges. Noah comforted himself with the knowledge at least Bruce didn’t blow it up like he had the reinforced one to the shop.

“So what exactly do you sell here?” Harvey inquired as Noah moved around the display cases towards the back.

“Cell phones and accessories.” Noah shouted over his shoulder as his heart stopped. The safe, the one he had paid to be installed in the wall was busted open. No forced entry, the person knew the pass code which was impossible. It randomly generated between ten choices that Noah used every half an hour. The police had been kind enough to only help themselves to a few thousand dollars. All of which were insured so he would get it back. It wasn’t the money that gutted him like a fish. It was the books. They were missing and sweat started to dot his brow until he noticed the black velvet box with expensive rings was exactly where he left it the night before.

“Any idea why someone would want to knock over a cell phone store?” Harvey asked, his skepticism over the shop evident.

_ Well you see officer, I ‘purchased’ something that didn’t belong to me to help out a friend. Bruce Wayne threw a temper tantrum and punished me for it._ This was ridiculous. He couldn’t tell Harvey that. Who would believe it?

Picking up the ring box he held no hope when he pulled the black velvet coverings off and found a note.

_ Don’t ever touch what doesn’t belong to you. _

A check for the exact dollar amount he paid for the rings was under it. He glanced at ripped out cameras in the store. No doubt the video footage was erased from the hard drive. He might not even have a hard drive to recover. The restraint Bruce showed was scary. He preferred the beat down.

“A lot of security for a cell phone store.” Harvey commented glancing at the safe. 

Noah let out an aggravated hiss. Bruce had thoroughly fucked him over. He had gone out of his way to threaten the small lucrative business Noah had built for himself. Very well, he would keep his nose out of the Wayne divorce. Such a pity, he truly liked John.

He lit a cigarette calculating his next move.

“Officer your reputation proceeds you.” Noah let the cigarette smoke drift up in the air as he addressed Harvey.

“Bull dog Bullock.” Harvey pointed to himself holding his head up.

“Indeed. How would your wife describe you if she knew about the women on Wellington Street?” Noah waited, he might get a fist to the face but Harvey was a man with secrets. Noah knew how to make his GCPD problem disappear. The big ape’s eyes widened before they turned flat.

“I think it’s about time we wrap this up!” Harvey shouted at the police running rampant through the store. “If you think of anything give us a call.”

Noah would never see justice for the rings, or the property damage but he could recover. It wasn’t how his world worked anyway. It’s not how Gotham worked.

“Indeed. Have a great day officer.” 


	4. Give and Take

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's got a friend in a foe, Tim Drake's looking for some help, and Bruce wants that case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned this will be one slow fic? It's slllloooowwww. 
> 
> It was another bad day so I'm cheering myself up with someone else's suffering.

“Excuse me, have you seen this boy?” Tim Drake passed a flyer out and witnessed the man barely glance at it before he dumped it into a trash can. His spirits sank as he turned to the Hernandez family having similar luck. No one gave a damn.

“Hey, I know that look. What’s wrong?” Stephanie Brown still had a small stack but she obviously had given up.

“There has to be a better way.” Tim said.

Stephanie narrowed her eyes as she pointed up. “You know there’s a better way.”

The Bat Signal was on for the first time in a week. Tim felt a calm come over him as he gazed at it. He shook himself out of it.

“This isn’t a problem for him.” Tim tried to grab the attention of a passing man in a bright purple silk shirt. “Excuse me sir can have you seen this boy?”

He let out a gasp when a pair of green eyes looked down at the photo. “No, I’m sorry but I’ll keep an eye out.”

Tim knew who he was. Everyone knew who he was. He was standing in the presence of one John Wayne. Not the actor, the spouse of Bruce fucking Wayne. Suddenly inspiration smacked him in the face.

“Wait-Mr. Doe.” Tim grabbed his wrist and John turned around.

“Yes?” John crossed his arms and regarded him.

Fortune favored the bold right? Tim psyched himself up before blurting out. “Bruce Wayne knows Commissioner Gordon right? Can you show him this photo? Maybe get him in on the case-”

“Look kid…” John trailed off as he watched Tim’s face crumble. He let out an aggravated breath and nodded his head. “All right I’ll try my best.”

“Really?” Tim asked eyebrows shooting up to his hair line.

“Yeah. Why the hell not. Keep at it in the meantime.” John walked off and Tim watched, heart in his mouth hoping John didn’t drop the photo of Rickie. He didn’t trash it and for the first time, ever since Rickie, Daniel and Liz went missing, he had hope.

Stephanie punching him in the shoulder brought him back to earth. “Way to go slugger. Let’s move a block over and keep at. With your luck we might run into Batman himself.”

“You’ll take the case?” Gordon sipped his coffee black and John resisted the urge to gag in his direction. In contrast his own coffee was mostly flavored cream.

“So you’ve heard of it?”

“It’s only a matter of time before the news picks up on it. We can’t divert the resources into cold cases and the mayor’s office is more concerned with Victor Freeze and another Riddler then lost children. Sad as that is.” Gordon’s mouth twisted in disgust.

“Why me?” John asked sitting back in the plastic silver chair. What he really meant to ask was ‘why not him?’

Gordon realized it anyway. “He’s acting like an asshole and I’m not giving him this case until he gives the emergency rooms a break.”

John sighed as he pulled on a leopard print jacket. “Sorry commish, wish I could help you out but I can’t do this right now.”

“Until such time he comes to his senses I need you to take the case John. These kids need you just like Jason did.” Gordon insisted pushing the files his way over the crappy steel round table outside the café. Jason’s face flashed in his memories as John popped his pills and grabbed the file folder off the rough surface of their table. He thumbed the pages within, more small faces like Rickie Hernandez flashed by, and so much time that passed. All the kids he was looking at must be dead now. His heart gave a little twist. _All right, Jay bird, in memory of you kid_.

“Compelling argument. I’ll try my best but right now I need to find a suitable lawyer.” John didn’t bother pretending to be fine around Gordon or put a sunny spin on things. He didn’t need too. That was the dependable thing about Gordon. He didn’t expect John to act or be a certain way. He just rolled with the crazy and kept his comments to himself. He had to have a whack load from the way his eyes had widened in surprise when he saw John sit down and took in the bags under his eyes. 

“How are you holding up?” The commissioner asked as he stood collecting his paper cup.

There were so many things John could say. He could wax poetically about the spent hours tossing and turning on Dick’s bed trying to sleep without Bruce’s comforting weight beside him. He could regale him with tales of how often the need to scream at the sky or fall to his knees in silent misery plagued him.

But where was the comedy in that?

“I’m divorcing People’s Sexiest Man Alive three years in a row. I’m damn chipper considering the circumstances.” John replied before he slid the gold aviator glasses over his eyes and decided to head out before he did something ridiculous like beg Gordon to speak to Bruce on his behalf. He took the subway back to the apartment. It was cramped, people had no concept of personal space and in the intense heat he was really regretting his leopard print jacket. He severely missed the town car and Alfred driving him around. Dick offered to drive him but John made sure he stuck to his plans. 

The boy wonder was out registering with the police academy. John picked up a few essentials for lunch on his way back. The cash wasn’t going to dwindle soon but every cent he spent he felt the pinch or ruin at his back.

He still needed a proper suit for tomorrow but refused to part with the money to buy one. 

It was a long way home and when he got to the door, he saw a familiar person waiting for him. It was a shock to the system considering how far away Ivy Town was from Gotham.

“A little out of your way Jean. Come to see me brow beaten and miserable I am? You could have saved yourself the ticket and turned to page six on the society column.” John greeted with narrowed eyes. What the hell was Jean Loring doing here and why would she come to see him?

“John.” Jean greeted as she tapped away on her tablet. “I see you’re living off Dick.”

John rolled his eyes as he pushed the door open. “I see you haven’t lost any of your bitchiness since the last time we spoke.”

“Yes but you’ve lost Bruce.” Jean replied icily. John stilled as anger rose up. He tossed the files down on the cot Dick hadn’t bothered to make. He reluctantly let her step over the threshold to behold his meager lodgings. An old concrete industrial building had been converted into condos and Dick had insisted on this small apartment with second floor bedroom on the sky light alone. Jean’s distaste was obvious from the sneer on her lips and the way her eyes traveled from the grime on the small windows to the hard concrete beneath her feet.

“How’s Ray? Did he like the book? I read it cover to cover and I must say you surprised me, you naughty little minx. I didn’t know you had it in you to write about your sex life with a man who shrinks.” John glared with a large grin that spoke of all the malice he had at his disposal.

“Did Bruce like it?” Jean shot back and effectively landed a strike against his fragile feelings. John cocked an eyebrow.

“Touché.” He admitted before pointing his finger at the door. “Now get out.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m your representation.” Jean smiled brightly as she put her brief case, the expensive black leather kind, on the Ikea kitchen table in near the door.

“I can’t afford you.” John reminded her, his fingers touching the spot on his left hand that was empty.

“I’m here pro bono.” Jean offered.

“What do you get out of it?” John demanded. Jean didn’t have a heart. She proved that when she sold all her marriage secrets for a quick buck when Ray Palmer divorced her.

“I want to watch him when it hits him in the face.” Jean admitted with a smile so wide it was manic.

John’s first instinct was to protect Bruce from this woman. “No thanks.”

“Oh come on John, you’re not fooling anyone. You’re in over your head and there’s a lot of money on the line.” Jean marched up to him crossing her arms over her chest.

“It was never about the money.” John said and no truer words had ever been spoken. It was deeper and more complex than mere monetary gain. His feelings for Bruce were the very air he breathed.

Jean regarded him with narrowed eyes. “What about him screwing everything not nailed down from Main to Aberdeen?”

The knife twisted in his chest and he rode out the pain. There was still plenty more _of that_ coming in the months ahead.

“He’s hurting.” John said face falling. He had been the one to inflict that damage and he would shoulder that punishment for the rest of his life.

“What about Dick?” Jean pressed as if she was ticking off a list. She hit her mark.

“What about him? I can provide for us.” John firmly stated. He could chair a charity, seeing how he was involved with several notable organizations. Surely one would accept a resume. Dick was going to help him compose one and if he asked Alfred would proof it. It was a good plan.

Jean laughed in his face. “Are you for real? He’s Bruce Wayne honey, this is Gotham, unless you plan to leave the country you are no better than radio active waste. _No one will touch you_.”

John leaned against the counter, there was so much pressing down on his shoulders. He didn’t know what he was doing and the world was against him. He was drowning and Jean had snuffed out the last little bit of hope he had.

“Listen, you want to take care of Dick?” Jean asked threading her hands together.

“I do.” John confirmed straightening his spine. If he had one purpose in life it was to take care of him.

“Then you’re going to do everything I say.” Jean was back to smiling now as a pit formed in John’s stomach. “Now, I’m going to have to ask some personal questions. I want you to answer honestly.”

John’s instincts were screaming to push her away, reject her help, but the rational side dying for guidance was willing to hear her out.

Devil take the hindmost.

“Now how did you turn him on? Was it what you wore? How you moved? I need a list of everything he liked and how he liked it.” Jean demanded her mouth twisting in disgust. “You’re going to walk into that meeting stinking of everything he found arousing about you and blow his carefully thought out plan _out of the water_. The first strike will be ours.”

John’s conscious was ringing the alarm now. “I’m not telling you our intimate-”

Jean tossed her hands in the air, frustration coloring her words. “Oh yes you will! You know who he is. You know what he’s like. I will remind you, if he gets his act together, we are well and truly _screwed_.” 

Batman blended into the night, moving around the GCPD with ease. Gordon was off tonight, his daughter Barbara was in town for a visit. The perfect time to be nosing around for those case files. He went over to a filing cabinet, jimmied the lock as Harvey Bullock passed by the office hitting on the receptionist.

Pulling the draws open he activated his night vision and started looking for the file number. The missing children. They came from all walks of life. Didn’t matter if they were rich, poor, runaways, orphans, they were taken by someone. For what purpose he could not guess but something foul was going on and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

His phone vibrated.

He ignored it.

He came to the number and eagerly opened the file content to finally start compiling the case.

It was empty.

Batman gritted his teeth. _Who the hell-_

Phone vibrate.

The phone going off, his location at the moment, he knew what was happening but before he could answer the door handle was turning. Harvey’s voice was coming in from the hallway.

“So I told him ‘hey pal who do you think you are’ and the-”

Batman jumped out the window and shot a line to the gargoyle across from the GCPD. For a second he fell through the air before the grappling hook pulled taunt and he flew towards the gargoyle. He watched as Harvey continued to flirt with the receptionist while he grabbed a file folder off the commissioner’s desk. The next time his phone went off he answered it through the cowl.

“Very funny Jim.”

“I’m not amused Bruce. Not with your rampages and certainly not with your skullduggery.” Jordon replied calmly. “I gave the case to someone else.”

Dick. Bruce could not get angry over this, Dick was the logical choice after the loss he suffered.

“I assure you I am more than capable-”

“John has a clear head and long arrest record.”

Oh. Now things were awkward.

“John’s back in the field?” _Did he get the blood stains out of the Jester uniform? Did he approach you or did you approach him? Is he ready? Isn’t this too soon?_

Then the ugly reared its god awful head. This was the first case they wouldn’t be working together. Bruce embraced the agony the thought caused and decided he could conduct his own investigation separate from his ex. There were other sources of information he could mine. He didn’t need the case files. He didn’t even need the case, there were murders, muggings, bank robberies, Mad Hatter up to his old tricks or another rogue on the verge of a break out from Arkham.

He could be mature about this and put much needed distance between them.

“I went to John. I’m concerned about your objectivity. You used to be gentle with them. Firm but gentle and now some of the crooks your busting can’t walk from the beat downs. Is all this _necessary_?” Gordon’s voice was strained.

“_My objectivity_?” Bruce graveled nearly ripping the wing of the gargoyle off from the white knuckle grip he had on the stone. “You realize you’re choosing a mentally unstable man over me right?”

“He’s taking his pills and has a sterling arrest record. Come on Bruce you broke into my office! Does this sound like you?” Gordon challenged. “We’re worried about you.”

Now that was a low blow. “I only broke in because you wouldn’t hand them over. By the way since we’re on the topic of the files _what the fuck_ Jim? Out of the two of us I’m more qualified to handle this.”

So much for being mature.

“And he needs something to occupy his time.” Gordon explained and sighed heavily because he knew what was coming next. Bruce didn’t disappointment him.

“He has something to occupy his time, our divorce will keep him plenty busy.”

And now he had hit an all-time low.

“Is that regret I’m hearing?” Gordon accused driving a knife deep into his chest and twisting for good measure. Not even his never-ending anger could shield him from the surge of pan. 

“It’s not.” Bruce snarled before he took a calming breath. “Fine go to him. I don’t need you.”

“I think you need help.”

“I don’t-”

“Jason-”

“Shut up!”

“-wouldn’t want you to be like this. If you keep carrying on I’ll be forced to take action and I-”

Bruce hung up by slamming the phone off the stone. It crumbled apart. 

He didn’t need them, he didn’t need the GCPD, and he didn’t need Gordon or Alfred or any of them getting in his way.

Most of all he didn’t need John.

Tomorrow he would walk into his divorce mediation and be calm, collected and most of he would pretend that John didn’t exist. The meeting would proceed, a tidy sum offered which John would be on his knees grateful for his mercy. It would be over and Bruce could focus what was important. 

The sirens off in the distance alerted him and he grabbed the sim card out of the pile of phone parts before shooting a line to the next building and gliding off. 


	5. Pound of Flesh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce thought he had all the cards stacked in his favor. Jean is proving to be John's only hope but she's doing things that make him question why she cares so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I have more to say on this story then I thought. After this the case work will kick in. I just needed our boys at the lowest they've ever been.

“Pops?” Dick called through the closed door.

John sank against the sink. His stomach was rolling, shoulders slumped forward from holding a weight so heavy it hurt, green hair a right damn mess and his face paler than his usual white.

“I’ll be out in a minute!” John’s voice was a mix of high pitch anxiety and a cheerfulness so forced it was repulsive. He comforted himself with knowing that this was the one and only time he had to sit in the room with Bruce. Memories were his jailor and they never disappointed in tormenting him. They rattled his cage and reminded him of all he lost. The smile on his lips when John managed to needle it from him with a joke. His eyes when they ran over his body with a hunger that was never quite satisfied.

John had lost his mind and then he lost everything else along with it. 

The door creaked as Dick leaned against it. “If you need me to go-”

“Nonsense, I’ve stared down the Demon’s Head, I can certainly handle _this_.” John remarked barely forcing the words out from his dry mouth. There was a knock on the main door and voices were raised seconds later.

“John get your ass out of the bathroom. We have work to do!” Jean shouted as she ripped the door open. Her mouth twisted. “Did you even sleep last night?”

When did he ever? Sleep was a vague concept he no longer acknowledged. The hollow side of the bed told him _over and over_ that Bruce was missing. That he was sharing a bed with someone else. Who could sleep with such thoughts?

“Jean who are these people? Did you introduce them to John?” Dick was on protector mode now putting himself between them. The surge of fondness for him made it possible for John to leave the bathroom. He was the adult in this situation. If he thought for one second John couldn’t handle this, he wouldn’t attend class.

“Of course. It’s fine kiddo. Off you go, I made you a pastrami sandwich and packed a travel mug of coffee. Leave Mr. Stabby on your bedside table please.” John switched gears from self-loathing to parent. He had to function until Dick was out the door. 

Dick eyed the people setting up makeup kits and hairdryers in the kitchen. “Pops I never called my knife Mr. Stabby. You did. Now I need you to focus. Can we afford this?”

Jean clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s on me. Not to worry. John will look spick and span by the time we’re done with him.”

_Something was wrong_. His conscious whispered. _Where is the money coming from? You know it’s not from her. _

John batted the words away with a mental hand. He needed to focus. The sooner this was over the sooner he could turn his attention to the case. Thinking of the missing kids steadied his trembling hands. He could do this.

He could face down the love of his life and let their marriage slip through his grasp. It was over at the funeral. This was just a formality. Just paper work. He would be in and out in a blink of an eye. He could do this for Dick and his bright future. He could even talk them into speaking to each other again if he gave Bruce an opening. 

“Kiddo I have to prepare myself for the adoring public. How about we have Mexican for dinner to celebrate my new found freedom?” John smiled but it was empty of his usual zeal for life. Dick knew it but refused to push further.

“Ok pops. Anything you want.” He hugged John close before stepping back, picking up his bag and waving goodbye. The moment he was gone Jean grabbed him by his wrist and forcibly shoved him into a chair.

“Alright, we have absolutely nothing to work with but we will fake it until we make it. Romano, I want you to start with those bags under his eyes. We have two hours. Let’s get this done people.” Jean barked as the hair stylist and make up artist hopped too. John hated the touch of fingers turning his chin this way and that. After what Waller did to him, he couldn’t stand strangers. They invaded his safe space and his skin crawled in revulsion but to voice a complaint would only anger Jean. She looked like she was one comment away from ripping him to shreds.

“Now John I want you to remind me. Who is Bruce Wayne?” She walked slow circles around the make up chair.

“The enemy.” John remarked as Romano turned his head left and began to apply the white creamy foundation.

“What do you feel for him?” Jean inquired eyes narrowed.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.” Jean hissed the word.

“I feel nothing.” John tried again eyes forward, hands drumming on the chair until Jean smacked them with a file folder. He stilled them by a force of will that was in tatters.

“_Bullshit_!” Jean pushed Romano away for a second to face him head on. “Let me read you a few names off this list. Vickie Vale, Selina Kyle, Vesper Fairchild, shall I go on?”

John winced from each and every name. She cut them into his body with a sneer, dabbing salt along the open wounds. They were ghosts of girlfriend’s past and some of them present. Bruce didn’t wait for the divorce to finalize, he didn’t care, and he sure as shit made sure to splash himself across the pages of the society column to drive the point home.

They were no longer together.

Tears welled up but he drove them back to the dark abyss. He remembered fighting off Penguin’s men, he remembered the moment Batman walked into the chaos to fight his way after Lady Arkham. He couldn’t breathe from the feelings that swelled. He would love that man until it killed him.

It just might.

“Now what do you feel for him?”

_ Lie_, his conscious whispered seductively. He sank into the dishonesty like a hot bath. “Nothing.”

“That’s better.”

His conscious was back with a vengeance, urging him to listen to his gut. _Something was wrong. Wrong, wrong, WRONG_. He was at a game table and he hadn’t even been aware he was playing.

“Now let’s get our boy ready. He has to be shinning if we want to sink the blade in and twist it for good measure. Don’t worry John I have it all planned out. I'll explain in the car.”

John counted the exits out of the room. He even included the windows.

Bruce had spent the night in restless slumber. He made sure to pad his gloves with extra padding to protect his knuckles. It wouldn’t do for them to be swollen when he saw John. A pair of beautiful green eyes danced across his memories taunting him. He rolled over onto his side and ignored the growing ache. His anger was still sharp but the edges had dulled. The manor house was too quiet and he never spent more time in the house than necessary.

“Master Bruce, it’s time sir.” Alfred came into the room. He pulled back the drapes and Bruce pulled the duvet up to cover the bruises on his stomach from a crowbar and brass knuckles.

“Have the grey Armani pressed and ready for him-me. Ready for me.” Bruce cleared his throat and Alfred pretended not to notice when Bruce slipped up. He put his breakfast tray on his bed, his tablet loaded with all the news outlets for further inspection.

“Of course sir.”

“Has Dick returned any of my messages.”

“Not with anything I care to repeat.” Alfred’s frown spoke volumes. “Keep at it sir, he can’t ignore you forever.”

However distasteful Dick was acting, Bruce acknowledged that if he left Dick to John he would waste his potential. Just as he was doing this very moment by enrolling in the police academy. Bruce had been drafted into the FBI briefly for a month and the experience taught him all he needed to know. No government agency with red tape could ever do what he needed to do as Batman. Dick would learn his lesson and Bruce had several cases prepared for him to get back into shape.

It had nothing to do with the warmth he felt for his remaining adoptive son. Nothing at all. Sentiment had landed him in this emotional landmine field. He was better off without it. 

“The press has called no less then eight times this morning looking for quotes. I dare say the news of the battle has reached the masses.” Alfred commented as he ran the shower and gathered Bruce’s shaving kit together on a towel for his easy access.

“That has Jean Loring’s _special_ touch all over it. No doubt to rattle my confidence.” Bruce felt the flare of anger and he embraced it. He was Bruce Wayne, a name as old as Gotham its self. He had nothing to fear from the press and Jean Loring wasn’t about to rattle his mettle.

Alfred nodded. “My thoughts exactly. No matter, you will present Master John with the money and be done with it. Leave it to Jean and Thaddeus to argue over the rest. In weeks someone else will be sleeping, cheating or divorcing. You can focus on healing.”

Bruce’s knuckles went white as he clutched the duvet. His only release from the growing emptiness was the streets. He didn’t find it in the vacant flattery from the women he saw, in the clubs he fled to in those weeks after John crumbled apart at the funeral. There was no healing, just another scar to carry. In time he’ll forget where it came from like all the rest.

Warm white milky limbs wrapped around his shoulders. _Are you sure about that? _A raspy baritone asked vibrating over his neck as a pair of red lips kissed his skin. Bruce shook himself out of the stupor he found himself in.

“Are you ok sir?” Alfred asked peering at him.

“Just waking up Al.” Bruce swallowed thickly as he wrestled his arousal back under lock and key where it deserved to be forgotten. As the meeting drew nearer it was popping up more often now. It had been seven months since John parted his thighs to frame his hips. He remembered that day. The rain beating against the glass, Alfred was out on errands, Jason in school. It was just the two of them, the last people on earth, cocooned from the ugly, raw and open, fingers entwined, mouthing silent love across gooseflesh skin. John wasn’t his light in darkness, he stood in the night with him and loved him despite it. He certainly fucked like he _loved_ it.

Not for the first time Gotham’s firstborn prince wondered if he was doing the right thing.

_He broke us._ Bruce argued reasoning away the doubt.

_You were broken before him_. Batman pointed out logically. Bruce ignored that little voice.

Even if it was true. They were broken men but together the pieces fit, they were almost human.

Then John stuck a smiling blade into Bane’s stomach and shattered those fragile pieces further.

_Stop being over dramatic_, the Bat sneered before he vanished back into the dark. _Focus_. Bruce ate his breakfast without tasting it. He missed the smell of pancakes but he never asked for them. Alfred never offered. Instead they ignored it. Just like they ignored Jason’s room and the cocoa puffs in the cereal drawer.

He tried to clear his mind as he took a shower. He shaved slowly, glancing at the empty sink next to his. The white granite was spotless. He remembered returning from Arkham after dropping the Joker off. He grabbed a box, dumped the cleaning supplies on the ground and tossed everything into it. The makeup, the expensive creams, and shaving tools with little red lips on the ends. He took everything that had been Johns and had kicked it under the sink to rot.

He nicked himself with the blade and didn’t feel it. Numb. Everything was so damn numb. Even the bruises on his stomach and chest.

“Sir, I can have the Rolls-Royce brought around.” Alfred said as he helped Bruce dress. The grey suit was John’s favorite. It was made to his measurements by a family tailor and highlighted his trim waist, his board shoulders. Bruce even dabbed his favorite cologne on his neck. He wanted John to burn for him. Ache so bad he couldn’t sleep.

Bruce couldn’t be the only one yearning for the days of yore. It was unthinkable. 

“No thanks Al. I’ll take the Lamborghini. The purple one.” _Ha! You loved that car and it’s just another thing you won’t have anymore. _Bruce’s jaw clenched and he forced himself to relax. He was being petty but those lips, those eyes, were haunting him. He’d be damned if he didn’t want John to be obsessed again. It was unhealthy but they had crossed that line a long time ago.

Bruce made sure to check his white button down under the suit for the check. He had it signed and ready to hand over. Thaddeus Crown of Louis, Crown & Magnus LLP was representing him with four other lawyers and they were going to make sure John fought an uphill battle. Bruce wanted to see him sweat. He wanted him to shift in his seat and fidget. He wanted him to be a down right fucking mess without him. He would _enjoy it_ after all John had done to him.

He might have a mean streak but he was also grateful for the past ten years and the seven they were married. Five hundred thousand dollars grateful which was far more than John deserved. Thaddeus was instructed to haggle but the agreed amount was five hundred thousand. No property, no cars, no monthly allowance, no jewels, and no spousal support. He wanted this done and over with.

He was calm navigating the downtown core. He was together when he parked the car in the garage of the seventy floor chrome and glass building. He made sure to smile when they snapped his photo in the purple Lamborghini. It was a whirl wind of questions and more smiling until he hit the safety of the building. He had taken the service elevator to avoid running into his ex. No reason to jump the gun and spoil how great he looked.

Bruce consoled himself with the knowledge that John had to be a stupid mess right now. He had to be aching for Bruce’s steadying hand and comforting presence. How utterly bereft he’ll feel when Bruce was cold to his suffering. _He sold the rings and he would deal with the consequences_.

“Mr. Wayne, right this way,” the receptionist was star struck and it did wonders for his ego. Normally he didn’t buy into the celebrity thing but today was different. Today he needed every boost of confidence he could get his grubby hands on.

He walked into the room, back straight and head held high, with an air of confidence only to be disappointed when he saw John’s end of the long black wooden table was empty. He didn’t care about the floor to ceiling view of Gotham, he didn’t give a rat’s ass about the fact that the white carpeting under his feet was freshly shampooed or there were art deco touches to the columns holding the room up. All he could think about was John’s absence to his grand entrance.

“Where the fuck is he?” Bruce snarled desperately wrestling his need to punch something under his control. It was the fight of his life.

“Mr. Wayne he’s just late. Please sit. Patricia can you get Mr. Wayne some coffee?” Thaddeus was an older southern gentleman with a round waist. John had tried to mimic his drawl several times to various degrees of success.

Bruce sat in the plush black office chair and stewed as the door opened again.

“Sorry we’re late.”

Suddenly it was Bruce who was at the disadvantage. That citrus scent gripped the top of his tense shoulders and ran hands seductively down his chest to wrap ghostly fingers around his dick. He stiffened as he turned to see John walking into the room and his mouth dried out.

Far from a mess John looked _good enough to eat_. His green hair was slicked back, a spit curl hanging across the forehead. His slender body covered in a black suit, God he knew what it did to Bruce to see him in black, and a blood red button down. This shirt matched the red eye shadow on his eyes and the cock sucking deep red lipstick on his mouth. The lipstick was their little in joke when they found it in Paris two years ago. The moment John had it on Bruce knew it was going to be smeared somewhere lewd by the end of the night.

“Bruce,” Jean Loring smirked as she took a seat.

_ Get it together!_ The Bat shouted making Bruce shake out of his lust coma. Good Lord had he been staring?

“Jean.” Bruce took a sip of water. He bought time as he scrambled to get back to the plan. John sat down and crossed one leg over the other. Eyes on the table robbing Bruce of his moment of triumph. Nothing seemed to phase him and that irritated Bruce to no end. His efforts this morning wasted. 

“Shall we get started gentlemen?”

“Judge Hendrickson is mediating. Does anyone need anything before we start?”

“The sooner we start the sooner this can be over.” John remarked lacing his fingers in his lap. No fidgeting, calm and composed while Bruce unraveled silently at the other end of the table.

“Let’s just get to the meat of this. My client has nothing to say and no demands to make.” Jean shrugged as if they were discussing the weather and not the multi-billion-dollar divorce on the table.

“I’m sorry Jeanie, did you say he has no demands?” Thaddeus’s drawl was sarcastic. Batman was on alert. Bruce had expected John to tearfully beg to go home. He was sorely disappointed he didn’t. Everything was off. He studied John who sipped his water leaving a splash of red on the rim. Just like the one he usually had on his-

Batman put his cowl into his hand. _Will you focus! They are doing this on purpose! _

Now Bruce’s head was in the game. He spoke for the first time since John came into the room. “Not even Dick’s apartment and the enrollment fees? Not the villa in the south of France? Not the house our children grew up in?”

The first two had no effect. The last one did. John flinched as he started to work in the variables and they didn’t add up. When he sold the rings John needed money. That much was obvious. It wasn’t the petty _fuck you_ as much as he wanted to believe that. Now his ex no longer needed the funds. What had changed from two days ago to now?

“No. I have that covered.” John raised his head and the smile he wore was slight but it was there. Signs of stress on his brow even though to all appearances he was fine.

_How?_ Bruce was beyond curious. John had no other means to support himself. All the accounts he had access too were suspended for the proceedings.

The door opened and the answer presented its self.

Bruce’s heart bottomed out in his stomach.

“I’m sorry, I was told to wait here.” Alan Scott, one of several Green Lantern’s within the league stood at the door. John’s eyes slid to the side avoiding his eye. The world tilted as the floor was pulled out from under Bruce’s feet. Scott had a soft spot for cute men and green. He was also a president of the Gotham Broadcasting Company. 

_You need me._

“We will be with you in a second dear Alan. Just finishing up.” Jean cheerfully waved Alan away while John sipped his water with his cock sucking red lips.

Bruce swallowed thickly as the drowning rage rose up around him. Was John sharing _their _joke with someone else? No, that was impossible. 

_ You love me._

_ Then why did he sell the rings?_ Batman asked, Bruce’s chest constricted. Christ was he having a panic attack? He refused to tug at the knot of his blue tie but he needed to breathe. 

“So gentleman, I have the paper work right here and it is ready to be signed. We can end this today.” Jean’s intense gaze almost made him shift in his seat. He knew she could see the beads of sweat form on his brow and how his hands clenched the office chair like a lifeline. He wasn’t masking any of his emotions try as he might and could not amount a defense to save his life. She drank up every ounce of his reaction to this latest development with a keen eye. He gave her everything.

He never thought, not for one second, that John would move on.

It was unfathomable that he would let another man touch a place that had only known him. John’s memory loss did not disguise the fact he was no virgin but he didn’t recall these encounters. As far as he was concerned, Bruce had been the first and he thought he would be the only one.

He have loved the power, holding all cards and now at the hour that would be his triumphant fuck you to his ex he was robbed of _everything_ as John carried on loving someone else.

He thought he had known pain and suffering. Now he knew what hell was truly like.

“Thaddeus I need a moment to think.” Bruce instructed getting to his feet. He had to get out of this suffocating room. He needed time to adjust to this new development. He needed to get himself together. Rage was rising up, pushing back the shock and sadness leaving him absolutely seething. He needed to feel teeth crack from a precise strike, the smell of iron in the air as he brought down a menace to society. Missing children to find-

_ Jason_.

Batman shook his head warning Bruce not to go there however his options were limited. Money was no longer a concern for John, Bruce’s much sought after quiet comfort had been replaced by a second-rate hero with a green ring, it seemed John was untouchable. But there was one more thing Bruce could do to hurt him. And by God he needed too. 

“You do realize that if you surrender Wayne Manor you will never get to visit Jay.” Bruce felt awful saying it but he had to extract his pound of flesh. He had to inflict as much damage as possible. He couldn’t be the only one suffering.

Misery did love company after all.

John’s head finally snapped up from his intense scrutiny of the carpet. Anguish clearly marred his face.

He swallowed hands shaking. “Bruce you can’t mean-” 

“But I do.” Bruce’s voice was Batman all the way. A wrong had been committed and he was going to see Justice. “Sign away your rights today and I will make it my mission that you never pay respects again.”

Several people’s jaws dropped at his audacity. Jean frowned. “You would rob a grieving man his right-”

Thaddeus held up his hand. “Mr. Wayne we can end this today without a cent from your legacy. As your counsel I wisely advise-”

“Shut up Crown I pay you handsomely by the hour to represent my interests and right now I want John to realize what he is giving up. So John, do you want me to sign the papers today?” Bruce challenged bravely. Inside he was recoiling from the thought. His emotions in turmoil. Anger warred with despair but over and over he thought. _Don’t make me do this. Not now. I’m sorry I can’t let go. Not yet._

Jean rolled her eyes. “Of course-”

“No.” John shook his head. “No, I can’t- I just-no…. Take the offer off the table.”

“Jason’s dead and buried. What does it matter?” Jean snapped and Bruce nearly stormed down the table to smack her across the face. John flinched as if she had shot him and he hung his head.

“It matters.”

Shame, twisting and spiteful gutted him.

Suddenly Bruce came to his senses as a mournful sob followed that awful pronouncement. John buried his face in his hands while Jean put an arm around his shoulders to comfort him. Bruce walked out of the room to escape the rewards for his cruelty. He ignored Thaddeus calling after him. He didn’t even see the secretary try to stop him. He wanted to disappear.

He had gotten what he wanted. John was indeed suffering.

In a daze he escaped from the elevator to the garage. There was no need to avoid the reporters they were kicked from the property by security. His mind in disarray he barely noticed they were missing.

He did notice the Aston Martin that belonged to Alan Scott parked near the back. It was the only green car in the building. For a moment Bruce stood there stupidly blinking back his own tears before his hands clenched hard enough to leave nail indents. He did the only logical thing he could. He spotted the fire extinguisher to the left and promptly marched over to rip it off the wall and take it to the car. He busted the windshields out, slammed the front bumper so fiercely it fell right off, ruined the lights beyond repair and slashed the tires with a Batarang.

Limbs heavy from the constant abuse and gasping for breath Bruce decided simple vandalism wasn’t enough. He was going after Alan’s company next.

“Are you all right John?” Alan was next to him holding out a tissue. John made sure to dab his eyes instead of rubbing.

“That was incredible. You were so good!” Jean congratulated him. John was five seconds from a psychotic breakdown and there would be no Bruce to pull him into his lap to make it all better. _What the hell was that?_ He thought Bruce would sign the papers and be done with it. He never expected him to react so heinously. And then there was Jean. She had acted her part beautifully and so seamlessly he almost missed it. She was pushing for this divorce to be done and over but at the first opportunity to fight it out she took it. While John had sat there sobbing she had made several demands on his behalf.

He didn’t want to take Wayne Manor but the idea of never visiting the piece of Jason left in the world was too much to bear.

He shook himself out of his sadness. Something was going on. He just couldn’t see what it was. Bruce was the bigger picture person. John was the clue guy. It’s how they operated.

“I suppose you want to postpone our lunch.” Alan commented. John wanted to toss his hands in the air with a great big _duh!_ But Jean had called Alan to come to his aid. Alan was buying him a swanky apartment downtown to get him out of Bruce’s control. He was here to support him without really knowing him. He should be grateful, instead he felt like a chess piece and the chess master was sitting in the chair next to him.

“Nonsense, John you need to get out to clear your head.” Jean patted his hand like an indulgent mother and he nearly slapped her off him. She had outlined the plan on the car ride over. Alan was a good man and it didn’t make him feel great to use him this way but Jean had been firm. Bruce had to believe there was something there and boy howdy did he believe. It was surprising how badly the news affected him. It was almost like…no John was projecting. Bruce was over it.

Smiling brightly, faking it with every fiber of his being, he put a hand on Alan’s wrist. “No need to cancel a thing. After all you’ve done for me the least I can do is let you treat me to lunch.”

Alan nodded before he paused and then laughed. “I see what you did there. It would be my pleasure.”

“I’ll take John to be freshened up. Excuse us for a moment.” Jean pulled John out of the room and into an executive bathroom made of beige flooring and gold sinks. She pulled a shirt out of her brief case and unrolled a plastic bag full of makeup remover. The shirt was white.

“Get the makeup off and remove the red shirt. They have served their purpose.” Jean instructed before she gripped the door handle.

Not for the first time that day John was taken aback. “But I can go like-”

“Oh please honey. Bruce might enjoy that gay shit but Alan Scott likes his men to be men. No makeup, mute colors and try to be a normal as possible. We need Bruce to lose his shit more often.” Jean snidely informed him.

His conscious was back crossing it’s arms. _Why does Bruce need to lose his shit? This makes no sense. She had the perfect opportunity to end the divorce today but she played Bruce into refusing by introducing Alan into the mix. You know she did. Something is W-R-O-N-G. Wake the fuck up!_

Suddenly the air went cold around John. The missing kids case and his divorce was interconnected on a level he couldn’t prove. Jean was all about sticking it to Bruce. This might not be the personal vendetta he believed.

Or the stress was finally getting to him. Either way he had to get out of his nice makeup and put on a dull shirt. Alan was being there for him, he was proving to be a good ally and with time he might be a friend. John told himself it was all innocent but he still felt like a cheap hooker changing for the next client. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fully admit this story would be done and over if John just talked to Bruce instead of playing the game Jean forces him too. Conflict from miscommunication just frustrates me but the point of this trope right now is to make sure the boys don't talk. 
> 
> That way when the people behind the missing kids come for them the stakes are high. Someone might die (of fun!)


	6. Bits and Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John discovers a chilling secret about the case, Bruce gains a much needed ally and the master mind is always watching, watching, watching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to work this until I abandon it again. Sorry it's slow but meh, I like building the suspense so the pay off it much more rewarding.

“This is bullshit.” Tim groaned as he buried his face into his hands. On his small bed Stephanie jolted up almost knocking her beat up laptop to the ground.

“What? What are you talking about?” She walked over to join him at his desk and glanced at the monitor.

“They’re getting divorced.” Tim continued to bemoan letting out a frustrated slap across his desk. He rattled the monitor. “If they’re divorcing, John won’t be showing Rickie’s face to his rich husband who knows Commissioner Gordon. Right back to square one.”

Stephanie glared at the smiling face. _Who the hell could afford a purple Lamborghini in this economy? _

“So what? It was a long shot anyway. We need to do something.” Stephanie punched her hand into her fist.

“Like what? We’ve handed out flyers, we submitted the story to the news, we’ve hounded every lead and now I don’t know what to do.” Tim sighed before he leaned back into his chair, head hung back. “Face facts, we’re in over our heads.”

Stephanie put her hands on her hips. “We haven’t tried us.”

Tim rolled his eyes. She had originally approached him with the idea of using them to bait the kidnappers into the open. “It’s too dangerous.”

“It’s our only option.” Stephanie argued as she pulled him up. “Come on, you’re the boy genius-”

“-I won one science fair first place.”

“-we can totally get away with this.”

Tim crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s too risky and we don’t even know if they would want us.”

Stephanie shrugged. “Ok, we do nothing as Liz, Rickie and Daniel just disappear and never come back.”

That was unfair. He knew that and so did she but she was also right. That was the infuriating thing. They had tired the police, the news agencies, and random people on the street. They had knocked on every door but nothing was happening. The longer these kids went missing the less likely they would find them alive. Too much time had passed already but Stephanie refused to despair until she was standing at a grave.

If they were going to make any head way, they had to do it. There was no other choice.

“Would it help if I offered you the costume?” Stephanie was smiling brightly now and Tim flushed.

“I’m not dressing up in that.” He protested shifting in his seat.

“Why not. If we’re going to antagonize villains we might as well dress the part.” Stephanie opened her back pack and took out the cheap, store bought, cotton yellow and red Robin’s costume.

John woke up in a place and in a bed that wasn’t his. Now, to be fair, Wayne Manor hadn’t been his either. Bruce had opened its large doors to him and it had been home the moment Bruce brought him back from Arkham.

Now he was living in a nice two-story loft downtown and at any minute Alan Scott’s good will would run out. Fortunately, Alan was feeling mighty generous after he found his expensive car in pieces. He didn’t punish John, if anything he couldn’t wait to move him in. He even furnished it. It was all so modern with white walls, cream colored sofas, soft beige bed sheets and comforter, white kitchen counter tops and appliances. Everything was so clean, white and fucking boring. God, he longed to take his lipstick to the whole damn thing. Wayne Manor had character, history and a color scheme! This place was far from homey. He was afraid to touch anything least he leave a greasy finger print.

His phone went off.

_No._

Was the response. He sat up in stupid Egyptian beige cotton sheets and dialed the number.

“The hell are you talking about? Information is your gig for Christ’s sake.” John exploded on the phone. He checked the time on his radio clock before climbing out of bed to get his pills in his _white_ bathroom. _Ugh_.

“I mean no John. The last time I helped you something rather unpleasant happened.” Noah sounded cross and there could be only one reasonable explanation.

John pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t tell me. He paid you a visit. I told you to ditch those Wayne tech cameras. Why the hell does _no one listen to me_?”

“He took my fucking books too!” Noah shouted before took a deep breath. “Never mind me. I need you to trust me when I say you don’t want to poke your nose into this case.”

Now he wanted to do it more than ever. “I like playing with fire. Getting burned is half the fun and I bring smores to the party.”

“Not this time friend and that’s all I’m saying before your behemoth of an ex adds more goodies to his gadget belt.” Noah said.

“Just one thing Noah,” John got him before he could hang up, “why are you so scared of him? You’re so down far the ladder you don’t even rate a number on his list.”

“Wow, full of compliments today.” Noah sneered before he let out a breath over the phone. “He’s changed John. Normally he’s docile with guys like me. Not that time. Now drop the case and leave it to him. I don’t care if he dies.”

John nearly spat out his pills. “I-I’m sorry what?”

“A storms coming John. We all feel it. Freeze is pulling out of Gotham, Harley too. If the rats are scurrying away it’s time to jump ship. You should pay attention to Gotham’s oldest nursery rhyme.” Noah warned before the line went dead. This lead wasn’t as helpful as he hoped the first time he texted Noah. And what was this about a Nursery rhyme? He wasn’t born in Gotham and had no context about the clue. It seemed rubbish anyway. Noah got smacked on the head a little harder than usual.

John put his phone down. He brushed his teeth, combed his hair and tossed on a bright yellow tank top and shredded jeans. He caught sight of himself in the mirror. A stranger looked back gaunt and weary of life.

He wanted to bury him self in bed and never leave. Yesterday had been just awful with a capital _A_ but those kids were counting on him. Gordon was counting on him. He couldn’t make himself disappear even if he wanted too. He could ignore the wounds still bleeding in his chest and carry on with that great stiff upper lip Alfred had taught him. Even if it hurt to breathe. 

Shaking himself out of his dismal thoughts he plunged head first into the case files. Gathering them he spread all the file folders out on the kitchen table and started digging. The first case was back in the 1940s. It was the same, fifteen-year cycles where there were children taken, a number of fifteen every time. There were news clippings, leads that went nowhere. Who ever these people were they were snatching the kids and off they went into passages of time never to found. He was working his way through the 1990s when a card fell out.

_Clark, 1600s, nursery rhyme, they’re watching_.

Sadly, the agent working the case committed suicide. Not unheard of but something pulled him away from the missing children and suddenly he was focused on this one detective. Something was wrong. He did a quick search on the detective who committed suicide. He was sane, nonsmoker and not a drinker. There was an old newspaper clipping where the interviewer asked his pals from the precinct about him. No one mentioned anything out of the usual. For all appearances this guy was normal. Why did he take his life?

John switched tactics. He started to look at the men picking up the case. Most did a little searching, logged their reports and quit. But some stayed and from all the newspaper clippings, internal reports from the department they died or went nuts. The fourth detective had managed to make some headway but quit and then he fled Gotham. This was the only one to make it out alive. Three more died under mysterious circumstances. Car hits, freak accidents, wrong place and wrong time. The eighth cold case worker managed to find a hot lead and ended up in Arkham. His file folder had pictures of his hanging body in faded polaroids. A chill went down his back. The polaroids also told the sad tale of madness and eyes etched into the concrete of the dead man’s cell. Alongside them was one sentence wrote over and over.

_ They’re watching, they’re watching, they’re watching_. 

Someone banged on his door and he jumped heart jack hammering in fear. Putting the papers down he decided a break was needed and tucked the paper clue into his pocket. Opening the door, he smiled brightly.

“Dick!” John tossed his arms around his waist as Dick held him tight.

“Pops, how’s it going?” Dick seemed to be staring at John. He was obviously trying to find signs of severe stress or self harm. John hadn’t been so happy to see another human being in his life.

“I’m fine. Come on in, I’ll get you a coffee and-” John’s sentence died in his throat when he entered the kitchen.

“Pops?” Dick asked as John put hands on an empty kitchen table.

“I had eighteen case files spread out on the table. Eighteen. And when I went to open the door for you all eighteen are now missing.” John’s heart started to beat in his ears. He glanced over and sure enough one of his high rise windows was open. Dick followed his gaze and immediately pulled John towards the door by his hand.

“We’re getting out of here.” Dick announced slipping a baton from a secret compartment into his grip. John held him firm.

“We’re not in danger.”

“We don’t have a security system set up to confirm that. Do you think it’s dad?”

John shook his head. “Your father has no need to spook me. He’s right pissed off and if I came home to broken appliances and slashed up mattresses then I would say it was him. This was someone else. Someone who didn’t want me working the case.”

“So drop it on Bruce.” Dick said.

“No. It’s my case.” _And I don’t want to put him in danger. He’s the last line of defense. If Batman fell who would save Gotham?_ This was the hard truth that John had realized a long time ago. He was expendable. So was Dick. In Bruce’s war against crime they could be replaced. No one could replace Bruce.

John looked around at the apartment. No one could replace him.

Shaking himself out of his melancholy, he thought it over. This case had a lot of blood on it and a lot of normal, hardworking, detectives losing their minds and committing suicide in Arkham jail cells. Who better to deal with crazy then the craziest motherfucker in Gotham?

John help up the piece of evidence he managed to save.

“They’re watching?” Dick asked titling his head.

John nodded as he leaned a hip against the table. “Hope they like the view because _I’m not going anywhere_ and the next person to take shit from this table better like the results when I catch them.”

“Sir, Mr. Thaddeus is on the phone.” Alfred said entering the cave.

“Busy.”

Bruce had been up all night. He had patrolled but to his immense disappointment and frustration the streets were quiet. He knew it was not his efforts or his malice that kept the criminal element from the concrete jungle. It was something else that spooked them. Something worse than him and it was eating children alive.

“Too busy to say hi to an old friend?”

A female voice asked. Bruce paused his research before turning around.

“Tiffany.”

The woman herself walked up to him and without prompting enfolded him into a hug. He laid his head on her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it for Jay.” She whispered and Bruce closed his eyes against the pain.

“It’s fine. I understand that your case load needed your attention.” Bruce couldn’t help the surge of relief. Someone in the family was still speaking with him. He could use a new pair of eyes. He avoided offering her a tour of the graveyard. He just couldn’t go back yet. The dirt was still fresh and so was the loss.

“I’m only stopping by to support you until the divorce is over.” Tiffany said as she took a seat at the monitor. “How’s that going by the way?”

_Brutal._ Bruce looked away. “It’s not important. We have bigger problems.”

Tiffany gripped his hand. “Don’t do that.”

“Tiff not now please.” Bruce didn’t have the strength to fight her when he was fighting everyone else.

“It’s important. What the hell happened that would ever divide you two up? I asked Dick but he was adamant that you were to blame.” Tiffany implored as she leaned forward.

Bruce’s mouth twisted but as usual he was silent to the real story. He did not want their children or their friends to hold John accountable for actions that were not really his. “He stabbed Bane. He went off his meds, lied to me and stabbed Bane. He tried to kill him.”

Tiffany nodded her head. “I know that must of hurt-”

_I’m not asking for everyone! I’m just asking for one person! Just one! _John was howling. Makeup streaking down his face, blood splatter across the green Kevlar pieces of his Jester suit. Those beautiful eyes narrowed in hate so strong it ripped him apart.

“-you have no idea.”

“-but that doesn’t mean you can give up.” Tiffany gripped his hands hard. It was sweet but entirely misplaced.

“I would rather focus on work.” Bruce turned around to the screen.

“You can’t hide from this. I know he still loves you.”

Bruce slammed his hands down on the large computer before him. “He’s dating Alan Scott, who by the way, bought him a downtown loft. It’s over, it’s really, truly, completely over. Now, can we please talk about _something important_! Children are disappearing.”

Tiffany nodded hoping Bruce would come around, he wouldn’t but he was happy to have some company. “So do you have the case files?”

“Gordon gave the case to John.” The surge of anger was a welcomed balm against the pulsating pain. A day later he was still smarting over the society column in which Alan moved John into his newly furnished rooms. He had tapped it to a dummy and proceeded to bury so many Batarangs into the paper it shredded apart. What Bruce really needed was work, he just needed _to work_. He needed to fade into the mask and maybe when it was all over, he might not take it off. What did he have? An empty manor house and a company to run. That’s all that was left of Bruce Wayne. 

“Ok. Is there any way you can-”

“No.”

“-ok. Can I-”

“Absolutely no.”

“_Ok_. So what are we doing?”

“Looking at nursery rhymes.”

“Nursery rhymes?”

“You were born and raised in Gotham.” Bruce said as he swiveled on his chair to face her fingers steeped together under his chin. There were still some things he had left to teach her. 

“Yes and so were you.”

“All the nursery rhymes mother used to sing from her childhood are all the same worldwide. All but one which is Gotham born and bred.” Bruce brought up the words across the screen.

“The court of owls?”

“The court of owls.” 

Tiffainy was silent before she asked. “And how did you come to this lead?”

“I tapped John’s phone and he called Noah.”

“Bruce-”

“Don’t you start. It’s a lead. Let’s run with it and solve this before he does.”

Tiffany was tapping her hands on the computer now.

Bruce sighed heavily. “What?”

“What if he called Alan Scott?”

“Alfred listened before I did.”

Tiffany let out an aggravated noise before nodding her head. She shed her white trench coat and pressed a button on the console. A display case popped open as her silver fox armor gleamed in the light.

“Bruce.”

“Yes?”

“The court of owls is just a fairy tale.”

“God I wish that was true but Noah doesn’t lie. Not about this. He was afraid. They are all afraid and it’s getting worse.” 

_ Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time,_  
_Ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime._  
_ They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed._  
_ Speak not a whispered word about them, or they'll send the Talon for your head._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a disturbing lack of Tiffany in my stories. I guess because I don't know how to write her so I'll try to write her as someone who went down John's road but finished what she started. Someone who lives with regret. 
> 
> I also sprinkled a little of what happened the night John tried to kill Bane. The whole story will pour out later but for now we have ANGST!


	7. Your Heart Shall Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and John finally come head to head working the same case and some disturbing revelations about their messed up relationship come to light. 
> 
> They were never going to go back. But perhaps they might move forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok Kids, 
> 
> This chapter deals with unhealthy mental issues. I'm putting a warning here because these two go to some very dark places. Especially our boy John. It's brief but it's there (and FYI nothing happens which is why I haven't tagged it or updated the warnings). 
> 
> ALSO I hope you all weep when you read this.

Stephanie’s boots echoed off the silent concrete walls as she raced down the empty decrepit hallway.

_It’s safe._ Tim said. _I’m not picking up anything on the radio scanner_. 

It wasn’t safe. Not by a long shot.

Pain exploded across her right arm as a dagger flew out of the darkness and nailed her to the wall. She slapped her free hand over her mouth to keep the curse inside. Ripping the purple cotton shirt, she managed to keep going. She had no idea how far down they were. The empty apartment building was boarded up along the windows, the electricity cut off. Only slivers of moonlight managed to peak through all the cracks to give her some idea of where she was running.

She rounded a corner as two very round eyes peered down at her. Stephanie’s eyes went wide as a clawed hand raised.

John was not having a fabulous night. He was having a downright _shitty _night.

“I’m so glad you decided to come out with me.” Alan beamed as his chauffeur pulled up to the venue. John glanced at the divider glass across from him. His pale face even whiter without a little makeup to cover the stress lines. He wore a purple silk button down and black slacks. His green hair slicked back with jell.

“The company of a friend is just what the doctor ordered.” John said, mind a thousand miles away. It wasn’t on his company at all. It was on the missing children, the dead detectives, and the case. His fingers were itching to crack it so he could fling it in Bruce’s face. _See? I’m fine without you!_ After that horrible business with threatening his visitation right with Jason, he owed him. John agreed his anger was justified but Jason was the line in the sand that John would never cross.

The break in he could handle. Dick not talking to Bruce, he could deal with it. But those cold blue eyes flinging hatred his way and ripping him down? That was something he could not face. The more time he had to think about it, the more it hurt.

“Just a friend?” Alan asked dragging his mind away from those seething blue eyes and back into the present.

“I-I’m sorry?” John pinched the bridge of his nose. He had spaced out and scrambled to remember if Alan had continued talking while his mind wandered.

“I was hoping that we could move pass that into something more.” Alan said, disappointment etched into his brow and the downturn of his mouth.

John wanted to let his head fall backwards up against the black leather seat. They were having this conversation now?

“Alan, I greatly appreciate all you’ve done for me.” John held his gaze. “But I’m in the middle of a messy divorce and I just need it over with before I start to consider anything remotely romantic.”

Alan reached out to take his hand but on instinct John recoiled. For the past few days his personal space had been violated by strangers. He wasn’t putting up with it anymore. Even if it was the one person saving him from ruin.

“Do you even want to?” Alan shifted away to give him space.

“Want to?” God there were so many things John did not _want_ to do. He did not want to go to a jazz club. He didn’t want to meet all of Alan’s friends. Fuck, he did not want to step inside the same room with Bruce. He didn’t want to get over their romance but he _had_ too. 

“I do.” Despite every piece of his soul howling otherwise.

“Then let’s take it slow. Starting with a nice night out with people who will adore you.” Alan said before he took his hand, John made the conscious effort not to pull away, and let him lead him down the cement steps. The door opened to a long hallway where the music blasted down the mirrors on all sides. Pass the hallway the room opened up to the nightclub where the jazz was hot, the tables filled with empty glasses of alcohol, lined with men and women until they were tightly packed jostling up against each other to dance. The walls were red velvet, the chandeliers gold with gleaming cubic zirconia. It was loud and John felt a headache start to brew. Alan kept a good grip on him, his palm sweaty, as he dragged him through the throng and up the glass stairs to the VIP section. White couches lined small plastic white tables were bottles of vodka, whisky, rum, and rye were dropped in ice buckets for the patrons.

The largest gathering at the back were on their feet to swarm Alan as he arrived. The music was pumped into the room from the main stage making it impossible for John to follow the conversations. Despite Alan’s assurances that his friends would ‘adore him’, John was greeted with intense scrutiny, blunt glares, and whispers. They knew he was using Alan for his money.

Jean’s brilliant plan was blowing up in face. Alan did want more from him but John had nothing more to give.

Suddenly Alan held up a finger and reached for his phone. His brow furrowed, eyes wide as he shouted into the receiver. He caught John’s eye and held up his hand fingers spread for five. Five minutes, Alan needed five minutes. Without another word he was off, racing for the back patio to hear the person on the other end of the line. Looking around at the rude stares from Alan’s pals John didn’t think he would last five minutes alive. Panic set in keeping crippling self-doubt company. In an effort to regroup, without Bruce’s steadying hand on his back, he started to retreat to the men’s room. Every time he had to squeeze by a sweaty body or push through a tightly packed group his skin crawled. He was not up for this. Not by a long shot.

And it was about to get worse.

John felt him before he saw him. The electric thrill in the air, the subtle shift of mood among the party goers. Someone eye catching was here and like the red sea they parted for the richest man in Gotham.

Bruce Wayne arrived with a dazzling smile, tight black suit, white button down open at his throat, with his left hand on the small of Selina Kyle’s naked lower back. That dress had to be illegal, it was molded to her front in a halter but the back dipped dangerously into public indecency territory. She beamed like the cat that had the cream as they made their way to the VIP section. A section John was desperately trying to _get out of._ This was a nightmare.

No makeup, in the wild, without a date by his side. The ground could swallow him up and he would be grateful. In a panic he fled to the bar. He didn’t drink, alcohol and heavy anti psychotics did not mix, but it was the only place Bruce wouldn’t go.

John pulled his head out of the screaming alarm and focused by sheer will alone. Bruce was here, on a weekday, pass sunset. _What was he doing here?_ He worked. He worked even harder when he was emotionally compromised. Yes, Selina was worth the distraction but she was never worth the hours he put in to be Batman.

It hit him with the force of a sledge hammer to the gut. He _was working_.

Steeling himself for the intense pain he was about to receive, he glanced up following Bruce as he made his way around the room. There were some party girls, twenty somethings, that he smiled at, a few hands he shook. But for the most part he made a beeline for the friends Alan introduced him too. One woman he zoned in on as Selina flashed some cash to get shots for everyone else.

_Who is that woman?_

He ignored how Bruce leered at her with smarmy charm, he wasn’t interested in her romantically. Not when Selina was five feet away giving a toast no one could hear over the music but everyone laughed at anyway.

Pulling out his phone he took a quick photo and ran face recognition software. Maria Powers. Wife to Joseph Powers of Powers Hotels. Interesting. He was about to make a quick exit when he turned around and found himself eye to eye with Bruce.

Maria was trying to play him, Bruce could tell how she leaned forward to flash the generous dip of her dress his way. Any time he asked where Joseph was, she deflected. It wasn’t a total loss, Joseph was notorious jealous of his wife and her many, many, lovers. He would be glued to her side whether he liked jazz or not. For him to be gone, something big was going down. Maybe a lead. He made a mental note to track down the missing husband. The Court of Owls was up to no good.

He turned and nearly spat his drink out. John, in a purple silk shirt, frowning at his phone, standing by the bar, stood out among the party goers. What the hell was he doing here? Bruce struggled to focus on the case. Selina, for all her beauty and grace did not entice him the way John did. Green hair slicked back, _it smells like citrus_, black slacks clinging to that nice pert ass. He didn’t touch his gin and tonic as he typed. He used it to cover the fact he was working. Had he made that much progress? Bruce was slightly impressed until Alan Scott’s stupid head popped up in the doorway to the back patio.

His heart sank. _Of course they were here together_.

What were the odds though? A million jazz clubs and they _come here?_ Anger started to fester at the thought of them working his case. His hands fisted. It was one thing to not work the case together. It was another to work it with an _outsider_. Bruce had the dignity to involve Tiffany but she was _family_ not the random guy he was screwing. The balls on John were big but they weren’t that big. Something had to be said and although he had thoroughly stuck it to his ex merely a day before, which resulted in his lowest emotional point, he was itching to do it again. He might regret it but that was for later. Right now his pride demanded an answer for the slight.

Maria Powers, the Court of Owls, none of it matter when John was flinging his love affair in his face while working _his fucking case!_

Before Alan could spot his paramour, Bruce made a beeline for the bar and waited. Sure enough John turned around and his pretty emerald eyes went wide with fear. He gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

Bruce leaned in to make sure John watched his lips as he mouthed. _Outside. Now_.

The whiff of citrus only made him angrier. It toyed with his dick and when John licked his dry lips to wet them, Bruce followed the movement religiously. It was unconscious but it felt deliberate. He hated the intense recollections that followed the smallest gestures. His memories replayed all the times John made the same lick before he went down, kissing his way towards his erection. Bruce gritted his teeth until his jaw hurt as they slipped around the tightly packed VIP section and out onto the patio without Selina or Alan noticing their absence. It was too crowded, Bruce put his hand on John’s lower back and felt the muscles bunch.

“Relax, we need some place private to hash this out.” He hissed before they made their way down the rickety steel stairs and into the empty ally way beside the patio, out of the view of others. Bruce used the hand on John’s back and shoved him away, conscious of the warmth on his skin.

“What the fuck John?” He snarled.

“Oh come on Bruce, as if this my fault!” John hissed, eyes narrowed, arms crossed, hunching into himself as he leaned into the dirty stone at his back.

“Why is he working the case? This is Gotham!” Bruce gritted out.

John had the audacity to look affronted. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Bruce slammed a hand next to his head and got in real close holding his eyes. “You working the case is one thing, _Alan_ working with you is unacceptable.”

John’s smile broke into a grin so vicious it left slash marks across his neck. He leaned forward. “You always did have a possessive streak.”

“He’s an idiot with a special ring, that hardly qualifies him to work Gotham cases.” Bruce moved away with a sneer. “Take him off the case before I kick him out of the city.”

John kicked off the stone wall and approached slowly, he reached out to slide his hands up his chest. God the touch was so intimate, so warm, it knocked the air out of his lungs. He was _starving_ for it.

“I don’t think so.” John whispered still smiling like a maniac. “You _no longer_ tell me what to do lover.”

He spat the word with disgust, eyes blazing, pushing against Bruce’s discipline as if he had no sense of self preservation.

“I’m going to take him home now. You want the case, beg Gordon for it.” John purred circling around Bruce slowly as he removed his hands

The image of John licking his lips before he treated Alan to an arousing experience for the books was just a little too much for Bruce to take. His self-control had been slipping the moment John declared his eternal hatred, all the pressure of keeping it together when he was being torn apart was breaking him. And when faced with the blatant tease his tightly wound restraint snapped.

He grabbed John by the shoulder and shoved him into the stone wall raising his fist.

“Go on baby,” John taunted eyes still on fire, “do it. I bet it’ll make you feel real good. You’ve been dying to do it ever since Jason died. So go on honey. _I won’t stop you_.”

Bruce swallowed thickly as a hollow feeling spread until it eclipsed the hatred that had been fueling him these past months. Even if he could bring himself to do it, it wouldn’t fix them. Bruce had no idea what would and for the first time since Jason died, he knew he wanted too.

He wanted John back.

He wanted his marriage back, he wanted his partner and best friend back. He didn’t give a shit about working the case alone, he just wanted _them _back.

The tragedy of it all, it was too late. John was with Alan. Bruce was on his own. That was the truth of it. Thaddeus would have a new agreement for them to sign and the next meeting would be their last. They would sign the papers. John might marry Alan, _please dear God no, _and Bruce would quietly spend the rest of his life pinning for what he once had.

Bruce dropped his fist and straightened his jacket.

“This isn’t how we make it better John.” Bruce turned away and nearly stumbled when John yanked him back. He was about to protest when John pulled him into a crushing hug.

It was heaven to feel his arms around his waist and hell for he knew he would have to break away.

“Please, just get it over with, I’m a tough guy, I can take it.” John’s voice quivered. “I’m not working with him. I just said that to make you so angry you would _finally_ hurt me enough to stop hating me.”

Bruce hauled him up against his body, desperate for the comfort long denied to him. “But I don’t hate you and I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

“Yes you do and I’m ok with that.” John was shaking as he blinked back tears. “Please just do it already. I’m tired of this. Aren’t you fucking exhausted? The more we fight with each other the more they win.”

Suddenly the brilliant, manipulative side, of Bruce’s darker instincts started to rise. There was still a chance he could salvage this. How easy would it be to work the case together? Alan was due on Oa for a big meeting with the other lanterns. Time alone could lead to other, more pleasurable, things. The smell of John’s hair only enticed Bruce to work harder to reach for the _taste _of his one true love.

_It’s wrong._ He thought as their breathing levelled out and started to sync. _He’s not mine._

Batman rolled of his eyes. _He’s yours and you know it. Now can you focus please? Maria Powers is leaving soon._

“Can I suggest a truce?” Bruce asked still keeping his arms loosely around John’s back.

John lifted his head off his shoulder. His eyes darting from the ground to his face in hope. “A truce?”

“Just for now we halt proceedings on the divorce. In the meantime, we work together to solve the case.” Bruce offered. He could see how famished John was for stability. Here it was, on a silver platter. _Come on darling, you know you want it. You and me together again. Busting heads, cracking cases. All that’s missing is the sex and we can build up to that._

In a week John would ask ‘Alan who?’

“Just like that. After everything?” John started to pull away and it took everything in Bruce not to drag him back. Patience was key. There was a lot of hurt, a lot of bullshit, and pride wrapped up in a knot for him to untangle with a gentle touch.

And after _everything_, he still wanted to try. They could never go back but they could move forward. 

“You said it. I’m exhausted. This doesn’t make up for what we’ve been doing to each other, but I think it’s fitting end to our marriage.” Bruce forced the words out and acted as if he was accepting of the inevitable. John didn’t need to know he was a breath away from begging to take him back. He certainly didn’t need to know that as of this moment Bruce was going to make it his mission in life to apologize for the damage done.

John nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “It-it would be nice to have one last case together. I mean if you can handle it without killing me.”

Bruce’s mind was already racing with the possibilities. “To ensure our mutual welfare we need to have ground rules.”

“Agreed.”

“You move back to the mansion. I will not have you out in Gotham left alone to defend yourself.”

John’s mouth dropped before he slowly nodded his head. “Only for the duration of the case and only if you get rid of the cat. I don’t need you fucking her down the hall from the guest room. I remember how loud you get when you’re starving for it.”

Bruce’s eyebrows shot up. That shouldn’t be arousing but it was, it really, really was. God he really was sick and twisted wasn’t he if John’s jealously made him happy. “Agreed but Alan stays out of the mansion. The sound carries both ways my dear.”

Besides it’s not as if that was ever going to work out. Bruce had learned a long time ago that Selina was never going to be who he wanted her to be. _Fool me once, shame on me. There isn’t a second chance_.

“He’ll be gone. We’ll wrap this up before he gets back.”

_ I’ll have you forgetting his name in a week. One damn week_. “Anything else?”

John hugged himself. “I get to visit Jason.”

Bruce winced but nodded his head. “You’ll have full access to everything.”

“And after, no matter what happens.”

“And after. I’ll have that drafted in writing and sign it.”

John’s cell started ringing; meatloaf played. Leaning away from Bruce he answered.

“Hey you.” _Alan_, Bruce narrowed his eyes but refrained from saying anything. John didn’t smile, he frowned as he said with that terrible false cheerfulness that made the hair on Bruce’s arm stand up in revulsion. “No, it’s ok…..I understand that you needed to leave….it’s fine.”

John looked up from under his lashes and smiled at him. “I’ve found a ride home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this chapter was devoted to the Court of Owls just fucking shit up and making them both miserable. I had such a hard time with this chapter. I scrapped three drafts before this came to me. Two things needed to happen in this chapter. Bruce had to let go of all the bullshit anger and move away from BatGod to Bruce. John had to get his dark ideas out in the open. But really, Bruce might threaten all he wants and stew over it but he would NEVER hurt John again. Shoving a Batarang through his hand probably killed our boy the first time. Anyhoo....updates will be non existant during Nanowrimo. 
> 
> I have committed to finishing this story. It's just going to take time. For anyone who has commented on this story. Thank you. You keep me interested in finishing.


	8. Two steps forward, Two steps back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old lovers reconnect and take the first steps back towards each other. While others keep falling apart and the Court of Owls isn't watching anymore. They're making their move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning there's Dick Babs in this chapter. I'll update the tags after I post the chapter. 
> 
> Thank you, everyone, anyone who commented and gave kudos. I hope I didn't disappoint.

Dick was a little late. Just his luck he had to swing into his old stomping grounds to pick up a text book that was sold out in Blüdhaven. Fuck he hated being back in Gotham, under the long shadow of his adoptive father. Dick out right refused to call him dad. He wasn’t a dad, he was a _dickhead_.

He glanced down at his watch, feet still pounding pavement. He needed to swing back to Pops apartment to see if he needed any emotional support after his big date with Alan Scott. Dick was just a little surprised, pleasantly so, that Pops agreed to see him. Romantically. It was also weird to stand in the room and watch someone other than Bruce try to woo John. Dick knew this was a good sign, he was opening up to other people. Moving on from the _fucking asshole_ who ditched him-that ditched the both of them-when they had the gall to call him out on his bullshit.

Pops was not the only one who was hurting. As much as he put on a big show, it was all bark. The moment he needed help, when his case study was starting to get overwhelming, his first thought wasn’t Pops. It was dad. 

Dick was so caught up stewing about his own feelings about Bruce he turned a corner at the Gotham University and collided with a woman carrying a hell of a lot of books. They toppled out of her arms and smacked the pavement loudly.

“God damn it, I’m so sorry, are you ok?” Dick asked dropping to his knees, scrambling to gather them up.

“Richard?” A familiar voice asked.

Suddenly Dick’s stomach bottomed out as his gaze rose up those folded long legs, pass the tiny waist and the round chest up to the green eyes of one Barbara Gordon.

“Babs?” Dick asked before he caught himself. “I mean hey Barbara.”

She flushed prettily under his gaze and suddenly he was twelve again.

“What are you doing here? I thought you joined the academy out in Blüdhaven.” Barbara cleared her throat and took the books she dropped from his hands. Her fingers left electric thrills across his skin when they brushed hands. He noticed she had pencil stuck behind her ear and a white cardigan wrapped around her shoulders.

Dick had gone from annoyed to horny in eight point three seconds. She was _devastating _him and she wasn’t even trying.

“I did, I’m just picking up a text book. What are you doing here?” He asked. Inside Dick pleaded with God, any God, that she was just checking out text books from the local library down the street and not joining Gotham University. She could not move in with her dad and be an hour drive from him. That was too close and he would _never_ get the thought out of his head.

“I’m moving to Gotham.” She smiled and doomed all hope.

Dick resisted the urge to roll his eyes heavenward. Inside though he thought. _So, this is how it’s gonna be? Great, just fucking fantastic._

“That’s great.” Dick lied through his teeth. “Your boyfriend ok with this?”

She hung her head, holding her books closer to her chest. Christ, she had filled out since the last time they saw each other and it had been years since Starfire. He never realized how lonely he was for his Babs. When she was in another city with her mother, he hardly thought about her. Now that she was under his nose, she was pushing Pops and dad, their mess upped divorce, out of his mind. He only thought of her. 

“No boyfriend to worry about. I’m far too busy.” She raised her eyes back to his. “Since it’s been such a long time, perhaps we could get a coffee and catch up?”

He could see it coming a mile away. Coffee then a date, then dating, then sex, then marriage and finally his own divorce. He had lost so damn much in his life the thought of losing her was unbearable. It was puppy love when they were teens. The spark between them could be so much more now that they were adults. John and Bruce were in love around their age and married by twenty-three. 

He would be damned if they ended up like them.

“Sorry I’m looking after Pops and studying hard at the academy.” He tongue was wrapped in barbwire and it hurt to push the words out. Some guy in Gotham was going to take one look at her and snatch her up. He’d lose his chance and hate himself forever.

His mind flashed to Pops, bawling his eyes out as he scribbled his name to the papers. She deserved better than that. No matter how much it hurt to pull away.

In the present her smile faltered before it returned. “Yes of course. Well, it’s been good seeing you.”

Dick gave her a lame smile and went on his way, tucking his hands into his leather jacket and hating the world. As he walked away, he heard her cell phone ring and she answered.

“Oh thank God Tim. I was so worried when you didn’t show for tutoring again. Did something happen last night? I haven’t seen or heard from Stephanie.”

Dick got two blocks before his own cell went off.

A text.

_ Come home-now_. From John, Bruce and Alfred.

The words weren’t just a plea. It was a call to war.

_ Can I suggest a truce?_

How could one little sentence turn the world on its head? And yet it did. It was just so simple, so elegant, so _Bruce_. John kept his composure, he didn’t fall to his knees and grovel like he wanted too. Even now he wanted to pinch himself to make sure it was all real.

They were leaving that awful club behind, and by extension Selina, for home. He bit the inside of his lip to stop the swell of happy tears. Home, he finally got to go _home_. It wasn’t the same but it was still the one place that he wanted to be.

“Master John?” Alfred asked as the pipe dangling on his lips nearly toppled out of his mouth from the gob smacked drop of his jaw. He tossed the paper he was reading into the passenger seat of the Rolls-Royce, dumped the bowl of tobacco, tucked the pipe into his coat and straightened up. Pulling his black chauffeur’s jacket into place he walked over to the back door and opened it. “A pleasure to see you again.”

John didn’t stand on ceremony, he hugged the older man and felt Alfred tightly return the gesture.

“Good to see you Al.” John pulled back. He smelled the rich cologne in the air before he heard Bruce speak.

“John is moving back to the manor briefly.” Bruce’s voice come from behind his left shoulder.

Alfred’s eyes moved over their clothing, obviously looking for rumples. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to collect them after a passionate bout of intense sex. The sides of his mouth twitched down briefly, John knew he was disappointed that their clothes were wrinkle free. With a sinking feeling John watched his eyes flash downward at their hands and found them unclasped. The Wayne’s usually ended their social engagements early in favor of patrol and always hand in hand. It was slightly killing the illustrious Mr. Doe to keep his hands in his pockets, away from Bruce’s tender touch.

John got a hold of himself and pushed away his intense need for affection. Bruce only stopped hating his guts moments ago and he couldn’t rush this no matter how touched starved and horny he was. It would take time, hard work on his part, and lengthy apologies before he even got a kiss on the cheek.

He did however have a chance to earn that kiss and by extension his treasured relationship. Once firmly back in Bruce’s good graces John would certainly get the grand prize of all. Bruce’s throbbing seven inch Batarang in a very _nice_ place. _Down Boy. One thing at a time. _

“I don’t understand sir.” Alfred sniffed, John knew he did that when he was keeping a slew of swear words under wraps and he counted two ways out of this ally for an escape.

“We’re going to work one last case together. Put the divorce on hold until it’s over.” Bruce explained as he shifted until he had John between him and his silently seething butler. “Look at it this way, it’s a proper end to our marriage.”

John was slightly surprised Bruce didn’t use him as a body shield.

“As you say _sir_. And Miss Kyle? Are we dropping her off?” Alfred asked as John fled to the safety of the back seat. He meant to slink sexily into the back but now he scrambled, undignified, to the other side of the leather seat and clicked his seatbelt in. He was in for a bumpy ride.

“No, she made other arrangements.” Bruce replied as he climbed in keeping his distance. He rolled his eyes upwards when Al slammed the door on his side and marched to the driver’s seat. John’s spirits sank. He hoped he wasn’t the issue here.

“Is everything ok?” John leaned in and whispered.

“This is giving him emotional whiplash. He’ll be fine.” Bruce muttered under his breath. _He wasn’t the only one_. John thought. 

Al asked from the front. “So where too?”

“I need to collect my things from Alan’s apartment.” John crossed on leg over the other and shifted to get comfortable. The seat enveloped him in a cushy hug and it was hard to keep his eyes open. After living under the stress of being hated and divorcing Bruce, he could breath again. Relaxation sank into his weary bones, the warmth from the car and the lull of the ride brought a large yawn to his lips.

“Long night?” Bruce asked, eyes on the streets, always on the look out for trouble. Several squad cars went racing by.

_ Long year_. “Just a little over tired. A quick cup of caffeine will-_holy fuck_!”

John’s exclamation was hardly heard over the tires squealing to stop. They had caught up to the cops and the street his brownstone building squatted on was filled with fire trucks. A heavy black smoke hung in the air. John rolled the window down and watched in horrified fascination as the top half of his loft was encased in fire. A steady stream of water was flying over the blaze, fire fighters fought hard to contain the firestorm from jumping to the buildings next to it.

The people who had stolen the files had come back to finish the job. 

“Good God.” Alfred commented.

“Text the children. It’s time to go home.” Bruce was on his phone in seconds as was Alfred. The same phrase went out from all of them. It had been decided upon when Dick left. It was simple enough to slip through code breakers and common enough to be overlooked.

_ Come home-now_.

Bruce’s hand grasped his tightly and John looked up from his phone to catch his eyes. He was composed but John could see the fear lining his gaze.

“Are you all right?” Bruce asked gently.

_ Am I all right?_ John kept the smile off his face by a miracle. His unspoken agreement, the reminder of his duty to Alan was going up in fucking smoke. He was downright ecstatic. He was also a manipulative bastard and Bruce was looking to provide comfort. He did love to be his strong protector and how fucking delicious that was. Like precious gems, John wanted to grab hold of what he was offering and clench it to his chest. Little did he realize how happy John was to see the calm, colorless, shit modern nightmare be vaporized from his life. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes so Bruce couldn’t see the joy in them.

“If Alan hadn’t invited me out, I might have been home.” John let out a heavy sigh before it turned into a subtle yelp. Bruce opened the latch to his seat belt, slipped his arms around his waist and slid him across the seat over to his side. John melted into the side of his chest and luxuriated in tucking his head into the crook of his neck. He barely resisted from inhaling the scent of cologne coming off his neck as Bruce ran a comforting hand down his arm.

“It’s going to be all right John.” He promised leaning his head on his green hair.

_ Damn right it is. _

“I mean it’s partly my fault.” John muttered as the car swung away. He was so comfortable, so drowsy.

“How so?”

“I mean after the break in, it was to be expected.”

There was a notable pause, Bruce tensed right up before Batman growled.

“I’m sorry-_what break in_?”

John’s eyes flashed open. _Shit._

The door to the manor house banged open as Batman stormed into the main foyer.

“I said I was sorry.” John bemoaned as he followed in his footsteps. Bruce tried to be calm about it all but he was absolutely freaking out. The loft had been unprotected. No security. Anyone could have waltzed in when John was sleeping and set the fire. There was so many protocols he had in place for such instances. Dick, Jason and Tiffany made fun of him for it but they kept everyone safe.

“I don’t care how sorry you are! You could have died! What was Dick thinking? What were you thinking? You _know better _John!” Batman glared and when he pivoted on his heel to deliver a god damn reckoning, a green narrowed gaze halted Batman in his tracks. Far from contrite, John looked ready to throw a good punch his direction.

“And what was I supposed to do? _Call you_?” He snarled and immediately his face crumbled. “I’m sorry-I didn’t mean that.”

But it was true and it hurt. He was over reacting but this was too much. Even for him. His protective instincts were screaming to take John and hide him in the cave, where it was safe but that would only lead to another fight and he was so over with fighting with family. He had been so close. So close to opening the door to their relationship and easing his way back into John’s good graces.

The news of the break in blasted those ideas out of his mind.

“Does Alan know?” Batman switched back to Bruce. He flickered back and forth between his two identities. Batman was logic but Bruce was heart. The emotion he kept tightly locked down pushed back, breaking through the binds he tied them up with. The idea that John turned to Alan Scott and his stupid little ring for protection was unacceptable to him. It would twist a knife in his chest if John chose Alan over him.

For a number of reasons.

He thought back on the night. If Alan knew and he let John out of his sight, Bruce would never forgive him. _He didn’t know_. John clearly hadn’t told him. This thought did not comfort him as his mind turned to darker possibilities. John had run around, a target on his back, for half the night. At any moment they could have taken their shot.

They might never had talked. Never had agreed to a truce. Bruce could have lost him and this time for good. 

His mind shielded from the thought to protect what little sanity he had left. He focused on Dick. Their oldest son knew about the break in and he let John handle it. Bruce was going to knock some damn sense into his head the moment he saw him next. He knew how much John loved to bait the bad guys. Usually this wasn’t a problem, it was a solid plan, when Batman _was there to back him up_.

“What the hell is going on? Dad what are you doing here? What happened to Alan?”

Speak of the devil. They whirled on their oldest closing the door to the manor and locking it. 

“You stupid idiot!” Batman shouted as he descended the stairs, pointing a finger at the police academy trainee. Dick’s jaw clenched.

“What did I do _now?_” He crossed his arms over his chest and squared up.

“You left John to defend himself when psychopaths were clearly on his heels!” Batman shook his head sadly. “His entire apartment is gone! They torched the place!”

Dick’s face went ashen as the implications sank in and Bruce felt the tiniest ping of guilt. He softened his approach and opened his mouth to explain further when Dick attacked.

“He’s fine. _Alan_ was with him.” Dick snarled as Bruce’s blood pressure started to rise. As if he needed to be reminded. Bruce was seriously sick of hearing that name. He was about to launch a scathing retort when John came between them.

“Enough,” he commanded and they knew better than to cross the matriarch of the family when he was done, “this is _not_ the time for this. Our enemies are attacking us.”

“It’s worse than that!” Tiffany came running into the room, fully armored with Alfred carrying a shot gun.

Car head lights lit up the windows lining the main entrance. The ground beneath their feet rocked as the mansion shuddered. John reached out for Bruce and they held on to each other before Bruce gripped Dick’s hand to keep him from falling to his knees.

“They’re attacking the Bat Cave!”


	9. Divided

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Batfam is under attack, all that planning is coming into play. Bruce and John may be over their heads but Bruce always has a plan, even if it's a bad one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For any one still interested, I bumped the rating to Explicit for the sex that is on it's way. But first I need to build the tension, get the plot under way and all the careful ground work is coming into play. 
> 
> But no worries, the tease is worth the pay off.

“To the cave!” Bruce shouted as they ran for the hallway leading up to library. He turned on Alfred. “How many have broken through?”

Alfred cocked his shotgun. “Too many sir. May I make a suggestion?”

Everyone flinched as the front door exploded slamming into the wall. The sound echoed off the arched ceiling.

Bruce nodded.

“Just this once we run.” Alfred covered them as they picked up the pace heading pass the door into the library. John heard the boom as Alfred left the bullets fly before he entered the room and locked the door. Not that it would deter their unwanted company for long.

“There is no where we can Al. It’s now or never.” Bruce graveled eyes clenched tight momentarily before he squared up. John licked his dry lips, there was so _much_ he wanted to say. So much life they had left to live together. The only cold comfort was the idea they would all be together again if the battle went south. John could be with his Jay bird again.

“Christ this is it? Isn’t it?” Dick swallowed thickly as the grandfather clock lurched from a heave against the air tight doorway. They were out of uniform, out gunned, out manned, and everything that could go wrong was _going wrong._

Bruce put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Stay behind me with Tiffany. John your second set of knives are still in the desk.”

John retrieved them as the paint around the grandfather clock splintered. The entrance to the library shuddered along with it. They were going to break through. He took the knives. The smiling faces along the blades grinned at him like old friends, happy to see him again. They were heavy in hand. He hadn’t kept up with practice but now was a great time to see if his muscle memory was still good. He put Tiffany and Dick behind them with Alfred keeping his shotgun on the grandfather clock.

Bruce muttered under the loud blows against the doors. “If anything happens to me-”

“Nothing is _happening_ to anyone.” John hissed twirling the blade across his palm nervously.

“-you are still the sole beneficiary of the estate. I never changed the will.”

John glared, eyes burning bright hatred right through Bruce’s skull. “I _don’t want it_. It wasn’t the important thing about us.”

Bruce glanced at him. “I know… I’ve always known that.”

This was the opportune time to confess his undying love for his crazy bat obsessed husband. To purge his soul of all sin, whisper words of comfort and devotion. But these all important words were stuck in his throat unable to move pass his lips. Some things were too hard to say, even when it was his only chance to say them. 

_Crack_

The doors broke simultaneously.

John let out a war cry surging forward towards the men in gold armor and black hoods covered with large round eyes. They reminded him of owls. He ducked a slash to his throat by some very large claws as Alfred let lose a round of gun fire. They poured in from the doors like a plague, hacking and slashing, shoving John into defensive strategy. He tossed a knife and caught one by the shoulder before Bruce moved in slamming his fist into the face and pulling the knife free. He tossed it over his shoulder and John snatched it out of the air. They had done it a hundred times before and like a well-oiled machine it came so naturally.

Dick was flying over his shoulder to land a kick on the injured mans chest as three more men took his place. Baton’s flying he smacked heads, hands and knee caps. To no avail, like cutting the head off the hydra, five more took it’s place. John sucked in a breath, panting, they were keeping themselves alive but fatigue would eventually settle in.

Bruce fought the hardest, sweat pouring down his back as he went into a series of hard jabs, kicks and offensive strikes. He managed to keep them back but he wasn’t gaining ground.

John risked a glance over his shoulder, Tiffany was shoving her way through the tight opening of the grandfather clock, Alfred was shooting and reloading but they had barely managed to make it in. John was about to shout something when a coarse rope pulled tight around his throat. He made a croaking sound trying to warn Bruce as the swarm of masked black cotton wearing assassins dog piled the dark knight. For all his strength Bruce could not push them off. John watched helplessly as they used dog catchers to push the bat family down on their knees and tied their wrists up with zip ties.

After they were secured most of their assailants went back out into the hallway. Only the lone footsteps could be heard over their pants.

A stately man in a brown suit, wearing an Owl mask walked in. His hair was white and thin on top of his round head.

“Mr. Wayne. It is an honor to meet you. It is also an honor to meet Batman.” The man in the owl mask said loudly.

John glanced at Bruce.

“I’m assuming I’m speaking to the Grandmaster of the Court of Owls.” Bruce remarked eyes narrowed, lips pressed firm. He was calm but John could see the storm raging in his eyes. He was a breath away from kicking the shit out of the man in the owl mask.

“Correct. You are the worlds greatest detective.” The grandmaster snapped his fingers. The chair that had been knocked over during the fight was righted before he took a seat in front of the kneeling Bruce. “Now, dear boy, I do believe you are wondering how all this came to be.”

“You deduced who I was.” Bruce snarled. “Congratulations.”

“We didn’t come here to gloat,” The grandmaster titled his head, “we need to chat about the future. About what happens to Gotham.”

“Ras beat you to it,” John sneered, “we’ve had this spiel before. Fire and brimstone, the dawn of a new age, _blah, blah, blah_. It’s all the same. People die so you get to be king of the castle.”

“Mr. Wayne, oh forgive me, I meant to say Mr. Doe.” The grandmaster stood up and approached slowly. “I nearly forgot to thank you for your part in this.”

Bruce’s head whipped around to his direction. His eyes wide and fearful with betrayal. He looked absolutely gutted and John’s expression matched his. 

“I had nothing to do with this.” John assured him before he snarled at owl mask wearing fiend. “I have _no idea_ what you are talking about.”

“The divorce my good boy.” The grandmaster laughed. “If not for you we would have never had the opportunity to strike at the man himself.”

John’s stomach bottomed out into the floor as he muttered shell shocked. “What?”

“Batman was so distracted by the collapse of his marriage, his former husband taking another lover, it left him wide open to attack. We owe tonight’s rousing success to you John Doe. While this isn’t our most diabolical scheme, it did the trick.” The grandmaster drawled. John pushed aside the wash of shame and bitter anger to focus on the plot. More important things were happening other than his unknowing part in their grand plan. He could beg mercy from Bruce later. Right now, he needed the _pieces to fit_.

“Jean, you have Jean working for you.” John confirmed. It made sense, she needed Bruce off his game, needed him to scramble around trying to gather himself while John danced to her little tune like the desperate idiot he was. With them at each other’s throats, they could strike whenever they were ready.

They were ready. Tonight was the night.

“Yes, Jeanie was crucial lynch pin in the plan but you two were the key. We couldn’t risk a possible reconciliation so when our spies spotted you two making out in the ally, we had to push our time table up. Such a shame, I had a running bet as to what would happen first. John’s suicide or Bruce’s psychotic breakdown. My money was on you John.” The grandmaster waved a hand dismissively. “Ah well, you can’t win them all.”

John glared balling his fists. He cast a quick look at Bruce, who looked ready to beat the grandmaster into the tiles of his foyer.

“Congratulations, you’re assholes. So now that you’ve gloated enough what happens now?” Tiffany demanded bringing them back to the present.

“Patience is a virtue my dear.” The grandmaster went to chuck her chin when Bruce snapped at his wrist and held it in place. He had escaped his zip tie without them noticing.

“_Do not_ touch her.” He said and grandmaster withdrew his hand as Bruce stood up to his full height, towering over the balding man. The dog catcher still around his throat. The Talons around them twitched but none moved as the grandmaster held up a hand. 

“Mr. Wayne, let us do away with Batman. In the new world order, I assure you he will not be needed. We do not have to fight each other. We all strive for a better tomorrow and for a just Gotham. You could join us and we could build that better future together. We have a seat on the council all ready for you. The Waynes have been a part of the court for centuries. Since the founding.”

John’s mind went to the clues he collected. _Clark, 1600s, nursery rhyme, they’re watching_. Clark, 1600s. It was the founding families. He knew how to fight the court. All he had to do was trace the family lines back to the decedents and expose the shit out of the people behind this ludicrous plan! He could save Gotham.

He could save Batman and the most important person of all-Bruce.

“Not interested.” Bruce graveled.

“Oh come now, don’t be stubborn. Your father was an initiate after all. Shame what happened there.”

John knew, even now, there was one thing you didn’t do around Bruce and that was bring up his parent’s criminal pasts. He saw Dick, Tiffany, and Alfred all wince as they waited for Mount Saint Bruce to erupt.

They were not left disappointed. 

In a flash of motion, Bruce moved to punch the grandmasters mask with such force it splintered right down the middle.

“You think this is the first time I’ve wrangled a lunatic hell bent on taking Gotham!” Bruce punctuated his words with quick strikes, the Talons moved but Dick and John were quicker. They swept their feet right out from under them. Considering how tightly packed they were standing so close together, they toppled into each other like dominos. Alfred and Tiffany made sure to wind up their legs and let their heels find soft heads. He felt Tiffany dig a claw under his zip tie and pull. It snapped. In a matter of moments, they had their necks out of the nooses and where wreaking havoc on their uninvited guests.

John kicked the knee cap of Talon as he saw Bruce grip the grandmaster by his crumbling clay mask.

“Let me be perfectly clear. You are not welcomed in my house, you are certainly not welcomed in my city and by the time I done, I will wipe the earth of your miserable existence! You’ll wish you’ve never heard of Batman!” He tossed the man backwards into the wall and when the court surged towards him, John let out a cry as Bruce was swallowed by the wave.

“Bruce!” John shouted trying to make out his black suit jacket among the crowd.

Tiffany was dragging Dick through the opening of the grandfather clock as Alfred followed them. They were running but before they left John needed to retrieve the last member of the family. John tossed himself into the thick of it, he spied his daggers. Snatching them up off the ground he started hacking. Hands, wrists, chests, they were all that stood between him and the love of his life. Any humanity he had was swallowed by desperation.

Finally, he managed to break through the tight circle of attackers. Bruce was getting the shit kicked out of him, they came from all angles. John’s felt each and every blow across his back, knees and ribs. He blocked a rather nasty cross hook to the back of Bruce’s head.

“If you have a plan, now would be the time lover.” John shouted as he blocked a blow to his right but not the one that caught his chin from the left. He staggered.

“I always have a plan.” Bruce spat blood across the wooden floor.

The mansion rocked as the hallway exploded, window glass flying everywhere, the roar of a swirling deadly firestorm moved the foundations of Wayne Manor. John’s jaw dropped in horror. Bruce couldn’t take on a hundred deadly assassins. He was going to burn the mansion to the ground and all of them with it.

John fell backwards, air knocked out of his lungs when Bruce pushed him. In slow motion he saw the knife that had been meant for him dig into Bruce’s left side. Bruce locked eyes with him.

_ No. No, no, no, no. _

His scream was caught in his throat. He crashed into the floor as a hand gripped the back of silk shirt and dragged him into the grandfather clock. The court swallowed Bruce back up as the door was swung shut.

“Pops! Come on we need you!” Dick shouted as he pushed John’s head to the side out of the way of a jab. John heard the air tight seal click into place as the cave rattled from more explosions above.

“We need your father.” He muttered before a sharp slap to the face brought him around.

“We don’t have time for this!” Dick shoved a black cloth assassin down the stone steps and they bounced off them to lie still at the bottom. The still working part of his brain knew he had to step up. Shake off the crushing realization he had left Bruce, wounded, in the hands of the enemy.

Bruce was strong, he would survive. He had too, John could not lose him now. Not before they managed to work everything out. They had been so _close_.

He could not focus on Bruce. He had to be strong for the family. A stone cold determination filled him. Tiffany, Alfred and Dick were all that were left.

Straightening up he moved forward and slammed his aching fist across the closest black cotton masked face he could find. He was exhausted, entirely spent and emotionally compromised however he was still breathing and for the sliver of hope of ever seeing Bruce again he found the strength to keep fighting. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Court of Owls are right bastards aren't they? So arrogant, so egotistical, and so fucking doomed if they drag Batman into their little compound. The next few chapters, now that the boys have a truce, are going to be wild. 
> 
> As Sherlock was fond of saying "the game is on!"


	10. Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While John is stuck in the cave fighting Talons, Bruce is finally waking up to what really happened and healing a secret he kept from everyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People might not like the next few chapters but I felt this needed to be done here instead of later. Bruce has hated John's guts and what in the world would twist such a love into hate? I hope this answers that question. 
> 
> Also, In Normal, Bruce never talked to Batman, or had that little voice in his head. John was the one having full conversations with his conscious. This was on purpose. 
> 
> Oh and feel free to drop by my tumblr blog writing is bliss https://writingisbliss.tumblr.com/  
Big bat fan, Entrapdak, gorgeous gowns and art.

Bruce drifted in and out of consciousness.

“We should let him die.”

He almost wanted too. Dick would finally grow into his own man without his shadow towering over him. Tiffany would be fine, a position open for her at Wayne Enterprises whenever she wants one. John would keep an eye on Gotham. Alfred would retire to the quiet life.

“We need to make a choice, he’s starting to bleed out!”

_I’m not done yet!_ Batman’s outraged voice vibrated painfully through his skull.

Bruce wanted to heave a sigh. _It’s not your choice_.

Batman was mentally storming around his skull, pounding his feet off his tender head. The first night Bruce heard Batman speak to him was the night he dropped off John to Arkham. He sat in the bathroom clutching his cowl; hating who he had become and what _Batman_ forced him to do to the last part of his shattered family.

That’s when the psychotic breakdown happened. Batman, through severe trauma, stepped out of Bruce and started talking.

Alfred was in bed, Jason had been dead a month, no one was around to catch wise. Bruce managed to get it under control but Batman was there. He spoke to him like a pissed off Jiminy Cricket with an ax to grind. He was all about the work, catching the criminals, ignoring the hell out of John and the divorce. In the coming weeks Bruce functioned with the Batman muttering in his head. Like static noise he tuned it out. Sometimes it took effort and sometimes he was just quiet.

They managed to coexist but the longer they remained apart the harder it was to actually be Batman. They kept switching back and forth. The knowledge split down the middle depending on who was driving. Case in point, the moment John was in danger Bruce had flipped the switch back to himself and someone stabbed him. An easy duck and move turned into one hell of a stupid mistake because they weren’t working like one person as they should.

And now he was _bleeding_ out when he could have easily out maneuvered his opponents.

_When did it all go wrong? How did we not see this? _Bruce thought as his mind became sluggish from blood loss. How did he let this happen to Gotham?

Batman sighed. _I could provide you with the answers. _

Bruce braced himself.

_But you’re not going to like them. We have to start with the beginning. _

Christ sake’s if he was ever going to win against the court he had to be whole to do it. 

_I don’t know if I’m strong enough. _

_ We cannot survive like this any longer.  
_

Bruce sank into the dark abyss. _I’m scared._

_ You need to see what happened. It's time Bruce.  
_

John’s sobs brought him back to that awful, horrible night. Jason’s body was on the metallic slab within the confines of the cave. Bruce could still feel the tears on his cheeks leaking over the mask. John hugged Jason to his chest, coating the white long sleeve shirt with his blood.

“What do we do now?” John sniffed wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He gazed at Bruce with a crazed wide-eyed look. Bruce stood outside his body, watching the scene as if he was a member of an audience to a play. Taken out of the memory he could study John, really study him. He noticed the way John’s fingers dug into Jason’s back. How rapid he was breathing. He was _waiting_ for something.

Something awful.

Suddenly Bruce understood what he failed to grasp whenever he ran this moment over in his mind. John wanted something from him that he would never give. He wanted Batman to kill Bane.

“We bring Bane in and he goes away forever for this.” Batman graveled as he took Jason’s cold hand and gripped it with all his might. Because he was looking at his fallen Robin, he never noticed the shock falling over John’s face, or the calm acceptance that followed.

Hollow and grieving John nodded his head, his voice nearly a whisper. “Of course.”

He then curled around Jason’s lifeless corpse and cried right along with Bruce. Not once had Bruce enfolded them both to his chest. Not once did he assure John that Jason’s death was not in vain. He was too hurt to try.

This is where it started. Not in that stupid alley, not when Bane nearly died. It was now. The collapse of his marriage wasn’t _Batman’s _fault.

It was his.

_ I’m sorry._ He didn’t know who he was apologizing too. Himself or to his talkative devil. 

The scene started to fade out and Bruce along with it.

“Are you alright darling?”

Bruce watched himself, in his power blue suit, hair combed and ready for work, completely miss the mess he was leaving behind. John was sitting on a bar stool at the marble island, pushing around a soggy bowl of cereal. He looked so weak wrapped in his black robe and pale. Bags rimmed his eyes and they were swollen from weeping.

“I’m fine.” John said and Bruce could tell he was lying. He slouched, his eyes slid to the side and he could barely keep his head up. Bruce busied himself with checking over his black leather brief case.

_ Christ will you look at him! Why won’t you see him?_ Bruce shouted but it had no effect. These events had passed and nothing he tried to do now would fix them.

_ That’s not the point._ Batman sneered in his ear. _You can’t fix this here, you’re only here to understand and accept where you went wrong. _

“All right,” Bruce mumbled as he collected the Lexus keys. He paused turning around and Bruce, despite knowing he could not change the past, hoped to see this play out a different way.

“I’ve been thinking,” Bruce walked over to put his hands on John’s shoulders, “once we’ve captured Bane and put Jason to rest, why don’t we take a vacation?”

He didn’t see John’s emerald eyes go flat, or how his fingers tensed around the spoon in his cereal. The Bruce standing in front of his husband saw nothing and he could not hate himself more.

“A vacation?” John asked eyebrows raising.

“We could get away, take Tiffany, Alfred and Dick to the South of France. You love the villa.” Bruce said a slight smile on his face as he took John’s hands. “I would do anything to see you smile again.”

John looked almost amused if not for the wounded haunted gaze he turned on Bruce. A look that went unnoticed.

“I’ll think about it.” John promised as Bruce kissed his forehead in goodbye.

“That’s all I ask love. I’ll be home by dinner.” Bruce promised as he walked away. For the life of him Bruce couldn’t remember what had been so fucking _important_. What could he place above John’s suffering? A board meeting? Some stupid acquisition? Just why had he left that morning for?

_You left because you couldn’t stand to stay in that house without Jason_. Batman mentioned cutting across excuses Bruce had made in the past.

_But I left John there and he had the same problem_. Bruce sighed running his hands down his face in misery. No wonder he went off the meds. Why the hell would he want to be on them?

_ No wonder they won._ Bruce thought as the world became a little bit darker.

Batman was silent.

_It’s coming up next, isn’t it? _He could practically smell the trash and damp rain.

_It is. We need to go back to who we were together. This is the only way we survive._

It was debatable if Bruce wanted too after he was done witnessing the last missing piece. He felt the suit start to grow over him until the cowl was covering his face. He wouldn’t have an outside perspective on this one. There was no other way to get back to who he was, other then suffering through it again.

Batman was running into the alleyway where John was sinking his smiling Jester daggers into Bane’s stomach. The large man had his tubes ripped out of his back. He was sprawled across the dirty concrete, river of red seeping out of the multiple stab wounds. John’s Jester outfit was splattered with red, he was out of mind. Bruce could tell from the Cheshire smirk on his lips, he didn’t wear his black domino mask and it was all Joker who was facing him down.

“What-what have you done?” Batman stammered before he rushed over ripping his cape off to cover Bane. He slapped a hand to the communicator in the cowl. “Jim, Bane’s down in crack alley off the interstate. Multiple stab wounds, get the paramedics here.”

Bane moaned when he applied pressure on the wounds.

“Oh come on.” John leaned against the wall. “Don’t ruin it baby.”

Batman lost his mind. He rounded on the person standing in the alleyway and slammed Joker into the stone building.

“Are you _off your medication?_” The horror on Batman’s face was very familiar.

“Why the hell would I stay on it?” All the mirth died on Joker’s face as it twisted in disgust. Batman looked around when sirens started to echo around the alleyway. He did the only thing he could, he grabbed Joker and dragged him towards the Batmobile. It was a risk to leave Bane when he was wounded to the point of unconsciousness, and losing a lot of blood, but Batman was unable to gamble his good relationship with Gordon if the commissioner found out Joker was in the alley. If Bane did die, it was murder and John would be swallowed by Arkham. Bruce would never see him again. He voluntarily went off his medication and used his illness to this advantage. John could never do this, Joker was the only way. 

Joker twisted in his grip. “Let me go! I want to watch! You’re ruining the fun lover!”

Batman took out a pair of handcuffs, his mind focused on getting John to Arkham. They could help him there, Bruce could not. His heart was breaking, his mind shattering from stark reality. John was trying to _kill someone_.

“Strip.” Batman growled. He needed him out of his Jester uniform. No one could connect John Doe Wayne with Bane.

Joker’s eyes glittered as he shed the jacket and the body suit followed. He did so in a teasing way that had no effect with the GCPD breathing down their necks. Once he got to his waist Batman attacked, grappling with him until he was shoved into the passenger seat and handcuffed to the car arm next to the door.

“Come on honey bunny!” John shout as Batman slammed the door. “You’re being a kill joy!”

“Shut up!” Batman growled as he peeled away from the alleyway praying that Bane would pull through. Deep down he wanted that fucking asshole to burn in hell for beating Jason to death. He wanted to congratulate his husband for doing the one thing he could not but he _knew_ it was wrong. That was the difference between them. Bruce knew the line was there and Joker couldn’t conceive it. Now he was forcing Batman to save the one person he wanted to pour gasoline on and light a match.

Resentment and anger rolled around his chest making it constrict. Batman had never been so angry as he was that second. He managed to choke it down and focus but it was terribly difficult.

“Go back!” John demanded teeth clenched together. “I want to make sure he’s never getting up!”

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done!” Batman snarled as his tight control snapped. Joker rolled his eyes.

“I avenged our son. _No one else_ in this car was going too.” Gone was Joker’s playfulness, the psychopath was in the car and he was here to stay. His red frown was smeared with blood at the corner of his left mouth.

“I was going to bring him in and bury him in Arkham! You know I can’t cross that line!” Batman shouted as he put the car on autopilot and started to strip Joker the rest of the way. He reached back and pulled out a pair of black slacks and a white button up.

Fuck what a night, if this slapped together plan didn’t work, if the Arkham staff put two and two together John was gone. He was out of Bruce’s life and he could not suffer another loss.

“Not even for our Jay bird?” Joker’s gaze could cut stone, his lips tight. A knife stab sank in deep and twisted, right in his heart.

“Not even for him. That’s revenge not justice and if I walk over that line I’m not coming back. It’s the end of me.” Batman growled out as he put his pants in place. John knew that. They had this discussion a long time ago.

_You’re one messed up guy_. John had chuckled, Batarang through his palm nailing him to the Ace Chemical switchboard.

Joker was silent for a moment before he spoke. His words were slow and deliberate as he smiled brightly. “I’m not asking you to do it. I’m asking you to love me enough to let _me_ do it. You can turn the car around, I can finish what I started and we can move on. We can heal. Don’t you want to make me happy? Don’t you want me to _smile again?_”

John was a master manipulator. When he put his mind to it, he could make any one do what he wanted through charm, sex appeal, threats, favors, and blackmail. Bruce had given into him multiple occasions because he couldn’t help the natural inclination to give him the world. He spoiled John with every request. It made his heart ache to know he couldn’t give him this.

“I can’t do that either.” Batman unclipped him, keeping his wrists in front of his face as he finished getting the white dress shirt on and buttoned it with shaking fingers. He pushed aside the hatred, the anger that was festering inside him. He remembered that John was lost and he had been so focused on the wrong thing to notice.

He grasped John’s pale hands and clung to the love he felt, that was still there despite the choices his husband had made. “I still love you.”

Joker ripped his hands away his face distorting into vicious sneer as he attacked, throwing slaps and punches. Spitting in his face all while. “I hate you! You never loved anyone! Not me and certainly not Jason! _You don’t know how to love!_ If you did you would turn this fucking car around and let me do what-”

Batman stuck him with a needle and pushed the sedative in. He was unwilling to give John a dosage of antipsychotics. Not without the proper testing equipment. Joker went slack falling back against the seat. Batman would drop him off and the doctors would help him. He shrugged off the words, tired to stop them from repeating in his head but they were stuck on loop. He comforted himself with the knowledge that John didn’t know what he was saying. That he was hurting.

But he could not forget that John went off his medication voluntarily, that all month long Bruce had checked the readings from his ring and was reassured when they came back normal. He felt like a fucking idiot for not seeing what was happening. He was mad as all hell that John had the audacity to think this would make things better. The more he sat there, car hurtling towards Arkham the more he just wanted to wake John up and scrap it out. His resentment grew with every mile marker they passed, his grip on the steering wheel was white knuckle. He shifted unable to settle as the weight of what happened sank in.

That small fissure that started when he found John and Bane just grew until it completely broke his heart. He couldn’t even look at John without wanting to strangle the fuck out of him. Where the hell did he get off, pulling his shit when so much had happened? It was too much for him to swallow and the knowledge John had thrown _everything_ that was left out the window for petty revenge made his blood boil until he was seeing red. They didn’t have that much, just Dick, Tiffany and Alfred.

Now they wouldn’t even have each other.

Batman slammed on the breaks when he came to a screeching halt outside the Arkham entrance. He shook his head to clear it. It wasn’t over, they could work this out….couldn’t they?

Now that he really thought about it, how could he trust John ever again? He had done the one thing Bruce could never forgive. He chose this, he chose murder over their marriage and now Batman had to toss him into Arkham.

Panic started to set in along with crushing disappointment and bitterness.

John chose to do this to him.

He kicked the driver’s side door open, marched around to the passenger door to rip it open. John blinked blurrily as the doors to the asylum broke apart and orderlies rushed down the steps.

“Still hate me lover?” Batman seethed.

John focused long enough to spit blood in his face. Batman gripped his cheeks tightly.

“We’re through. I hope your revenge was worth losing me because I will never take you back you _lying piece of shit_.”

He dragged John laughing hysterically towards the staff. Holding him up as if he was just another crazy bastard off the streets, he gritted out between his teeth.

“This man is off his medication and a danger to everyone. Lock him up.”

_And throw away the key._

_So we’ve come full circle._ Batman said. There was nothing but anguish left and the seething anger Bruce had felt during that night was long gone leaving him bereft. 

“We’re losing him!”

“Work harder! The Grandmaster wants him dead but we need him alive!”

_ The court didn’t have to do a damn thing, we did all the hard work for them_. Bruce admitted although it was a bitter pill to swallow. It was such a fucking mess.

_ But it’s not over yet_. Batman smiled and it was a chilling thing.

“He’s flat lining!”

_What do you expect me to do?_ Bruce asked. _I would only fail_, _I have fallen so far from what I used to be._

“Get those panels over there!”

Batman stepped closer the shadows of his cape started to seep into Bruce’s shadow.

_I expect you to do what you have always done in situations like this_. Batman said.

“No pulse! Shock him again!”

_I expect you to rise to the occasion._

The shrieks echoed as the bats that surrounded him in his childhood rose up to heal what was left of him. Batman finally faded out with them, sinking back into his damaged psyche as if he had never left. For the first time in months Bruce came back from where he had fallen. He came out of the abyss with a promise.

The court of owls had come to burn his house down. He was going to wake up and do the same to them. John was going to help him. 

“We’ve got a pulse!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now before you all roll your eyes like "this makes no sense," go back to all the times Bruce switches back and forth and when people remark on it. I wrote him as damaged as hell in the beginning of this story and when he listens to Batman that's a sign he's not right. Which makes the twist all the better.
> 
> Hating John and divorcing him makes him hate Batman. Which makes him hate himself. And then we have the damage. 
> 
> Next up is John. And I promise John's chapter ends on a sexy note. I swear!


	11. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While John works on dismantling the Court of Owls from without, Bruce is working to take them apart from within. 
> 
> They never should have let him live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed this chapter. Now I'm not the familiar with corporate take overs and such but hey it's just fiction so whatevs. We don't follow Bruce, Barbara, Tim or Stephanie. It's all about what John is doing and how he arrives to his ending in this chapter. 
> 
> Sorry for the marathon this chapter is.

When John was stressed, and he couldn’t curl on Bruce’s lap for cuddles, he did the next best thing. Took a cigarette, went to the veranda and shared it with Alfred. They looked at the broken wicker furniture that had cost a small fortune and found that the long couch was their best option. The rest was in pieces. Together they cleared it of glass and righted it so that it sat exactly where it had been before the court attacked. Taking a seat, John looked up at the gray clouds hanging over the manor threatening rain. Until that happened they were going to sit, on nearly broken wicker couch, and have a fucking smoke.

“I’ve contacted the construction crew. They can start in the morning.” Alfred inhaled off the slim cigarette before passing it back to John who sat beside him.

“You know I never cheated on him with Alan Scott. I barely knew him long enough to let him touch me.” John took a drag before flicking the ash down onto the ground. Debris of kitchen cabinets and marble counter tops from the explosions was scattered across the tile. They joined the glass from the windows. A portion of the library wall had landed in the empty pool, pages of broken books scattered everywhere. Ashes were not going stand out in the soggy mess.

“I’m going to have you look over the reconstruction. Do we want what we had before or should we do something different? The foundations are still standing but we could make it into something new.” Alfred took the offered smoke and inhaled.

“Did he ever…with Vickie or Selina-”

Alfred side eyed him hard enough to make John shrink back before he hesitantly took the smoke back.

“I’m just asking,” John muttered as he inhaled and let the smoke spiral up into the air to disappear. “It won’t change anything. I just want to know.”

Alfred yanked the cigarette out of his hand and levelled him with a look that spoke volumes of his disbelief that they were even having this conversation. 

“Master John, for two years he went to Arkham to visit you. You consumed him and during your absence, you haunted him. There never will be another person on God’s green earth for him, other than you.”

That was encouraging and it also affirmed that Bruce hadn’t found someone else in their time apart. Reconciliation was looking pretty good. John smirked at Al and he returned it. 

“Now, I’m thinking French doors for the veranda. Thoughts?” Alfred asked as he stabbed the butt out on the broken glass table before them.

“I want what we had before.” John pulled his long legs up to his chest and hugged them with his arms.

“For the reconstruction or the marriage?” Alfred asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“Both.”

“Very good sir. I will over see the reconstruction. The marriage is on you.”

“I promise to do better by him.”

“No sir, you _both_ will do better.”

John sighed, heart aching. “I still love him, you know that right?”

“I know.” Alfred gripped his shoulder as he stood up. “So does he, deep down.”

“I said and did some awful shit.”

“He did too.”

“Can we come back from it?”

Alfred took a deep breath and let it out. “What did you tell Jason when he was fretting about the adoption, given his history?”

“We believe in second chances in this home.” John remarked as he stood up and looked at the busted-up manor. This was his second chance and he would not waste a moment of it. “Thanks for the smoke Al.”

“My pleasure sir. Call ahead if you’ll be late for dinner.” 

Maria Powers and her entourage from the Court of Owls excitedly exited the elevator to the boardroom of Wayne Enterprises. This was not some stupid meeting room. This was the place of power within the Wayne Empire. They had successfully blackmailed and threatened any shareholders into selling their shares making them the majority holders. Maria was appointing herself CEO at todays emergency meeting and she was going right back to the grandmaster to report her success. Her power only grew as Bruce Wayne’s died out. He had been missing a full eighteen hours. It was too early to announce his absence and assure the public that WE would continue without his leadership. She had her makeup team and hairdresser on call for when the moment arrived. For now, this was an introduction so that when power switched hands the shareholders didn’t run for the hills.

This was what she wanted the most out of the court. Why she pushed Joseph to join in the first place. Her spineless husband could run the hotel chain. She was going to take WE and conquer the world.

She entered the room and found the few remaining people unwilling to part with the shares sitting at the table looking terribly put out with her. Taking a seat at the head of the table she smiled brightly, winningly, and opened her mouth to introduce herself.

“You’re in my seat.”

In confusion Maria turned to see John Doe, Dick Grayson Wayne, and Tiffany Fox standing in the glass doors to the room with thunderous looks.

Her smile faltered.

“I’m sorry this meeting is for shareholders only.” She picked up the phone to call security as the stock holders in the room sat up raking their eyes over John. He was dressed in a black mesh shirt with red silk roses embroider across the material. He wore a black blazer over the shirt and donned a pair of ripped tight black jeans. He painted his eyelids in bold pink eye shadow, green hair slicked back save for the curl over his pale forehead. His bright red smirk was predatory.

“_Fantastic_! As temporary CEO of Wayne Enterprises, I want to assure you that under my leadership we will continue to believe and follow in Bruce’s vision for the company while he’s away on business.” John said as he clapped his hands together, marched into the room and stood uncomfortably close to her left shoulder. He drilled holes in the side of her skull, clearly waiting for her to move. She hated him. His blatant homosexuality, his lack of fashion, his craziness. He had no business even _speaking _to her.

“I’m so sorry John but we bought up forty shares of the company. We run this place now.” She gestured for the security but they ignored her. A chill went down her spine.

“Forty you say? Let’s do a little math dear girl. In Bruce’s absence, as John Wayne I own up to thirty five percent of the company.” John informed her eyes narrowed.

“Oh dear but that’s only thirty five percent-”

“It’s _fucking rude_ to interrupt the CEO on the first day. I’m not done.” John hissed as Maria stood up to go toe to toe with him. “Ten percent goes to Bruce’s adoptive ward Richard Grayson Wayne and Lucius Fox’s darling daughter Tiffany Fox-guess who they’ll be voting in? Are we paying attention dear lamb? This leaves ten percent for the rest of the world. I’m not counting on the forty you managed to threaten your way into.”

John leaned forward so he could stare her in the eye.

“John Doe, _meaning me_, has five percent all my own bringing my total up to fifty. Now I think a quick vote on who should run this place will settle matters. FYI, it won’t be _you_.”

Maria’s face went red.

Suddenly inspiration struck and she whirled on John pointing a finger in his face. “But you’re in the middle of a divorce. Only as his spouse do you claim your thirty five percent!”

He started laughing, a full on belly laugh before held out his left hand. Her heart bottomed out into her stomach as the black gold band and emerald engagement ring flashed in the light.

“Honey we’ve _reconciled_. As it turns out we couldn’t live without each other.” John leaned down next to her ear and whispered. “And if you don’t give him back to me, you might not _live_ that much longer. I’ve killed one man already, stabbed another near to death, imagine what I’ll do to you.”

Maria glared. “You can’t threaten me.”

John patted her head. “Aren’t you sweet.”

Then he threaded his long fingers into her black hair, gripped tight and smashed it into the glass table. He held it there when she screamed, limbs flailing in panic. The people in the room jumped but Dick and Tiffany glared them back. Tiffany took out a gun and cocked it loudly.

“I am now the CEO of WE. I could waste your fucking life right here, right now and get off scot-free. You have an hour to give me my Bruce back or else things became fucking crazy up in your business.”

As soon as he let go Maria was seized by large men in security uniforms.

“Considering you’re now under investigation for some serious white collar crime, you are not attending this meeting. Have the trash removed from this room. We have business to conduct.” John took her seat, the one made just for her, and crossed one leg over the other. He put his hands on the glass table and spread the fingers. “Now, are there any other objections to my appointment?”

When no one said anything, Maria heard Dick say. “Motion passes. Congrats pops on your new job.”

“Thank you so much kiddo. Now I do believe we have a lot of house cleaning to attend too.”

“How could you lose this opportunity!” The grandmaster thundered as he jumped to his feet. Maria cowered at the head of the meeting table. Her owl mask unable to conceal her frown. All around them the court was whispering, panicking as the plan they had cultivated from the moment of their births, spanning century after century, started to dissolve. 

“It’s not _my fault_!” She cried, her voice echoing around the circular stone chamber.

“How did we not know about this? This is our crowning moment! Generations have risen and fallen to see us succeed!” The grandmaster twisted away from them, voice tinged in disgust.

“Should-should we give him back?” One brave soul asked.

“Bruce was stabbed to death of course we’re not giving him back!” The grandmaster shouted. The rows of people lining the room bowed their heads.

“Well…that’s not technically true sir….” Another man said hesitantly.

“_Excuse me?_” The grandmaster leaned on the table.

“We just thought…some of us thought…that perhaps…just because he’s a Wayne he should remain alive. At least to serve as a Talon.”

If the grandmaster’s face was unmasked they would have seen it turn bright red. “You listened to Sebastian Clark didn’t you? Can’t you see he’s trying to destroy us from the inside using Batman!” 

There was a notable pause before the blaring alarms started to ring. The grandmaster did the only thing he could at that moment. He whirled on the Talons.

“What the hell are you waiting for? Get Barbara Gordon and the kids!” The grandmaster watched them file out only for a man in a suit and his owl mask run in.

“Uh sir.”

“What is it _now_?”

“About those kids...”

“Jesus, what the fuck happened here?” Noah stepped over the fallen column towards John sitting on the broken staircase in the Wayne Manor.

“Martial spat. Did you bring me the information?” John asked as he lounged in the chaos. There was one thing Noah noticed about the mysterious Mr. Doe. Some folks would be curled in a ball unable to function from what they endured. John had borne some tragic shit in his life. He didn’t just surmount it, he _thrived_.

“Right here, and my books?” Noah may like John but this was business. Bruce had taken the books. He wanted them back.

John lifted them up from under a broken stair case. Noah licked his lips, delighted to have what he so coveted, the evidence of his wrong doing, back in his possession.

“Are we on the level Noah?” John asked, eyes hard as the emeralds on his left hand.

“Of course.” Noah would not cross John, Freeze had a soft spot for him. Bruce Wayne liked to fuck him. A few thousand dollars worth of renovations and repairs was nothing compared to what would haunt his door if he decided to retaliate. Besides, there was no money to be made in petty revenge. He would rather have John’s business or at least his husband’s cash.

“I have your word that we’re still friends? Water under the bridge?” John handed the books over as Noah passed him the white file folder.

“No money in it and I’m not that pissed off. Will he be angry?” Noah gestured to the books with a tap on the hard cover with his finger. His face could only take so many beatings in such a short time span.

“No pleasure in being angry with me.” John smirked and Noah sincerely did not want to know what the Waynes did for ‘pleasure’

“Well then, best be off.” Noah tipped his hat. “Mr. Wayne.”

John titled his head. “I’m not-”

“Sure you’re not. Cheers John on your reconciliation and congratulations.” He walked away, no doubt he would be back in Gotham by the time John Doe Wayne got through with the people holding Gotham in their greedy little clutches. He was looking forward to what happened next.

He was a little curious, however, why John wanted the list of the founding families.

“Have you found him yet? He’s injured! He can’t be a threat to our plans for those kids.” The grandmaster tossed his chair to the ground.

“What could an injured man possibly do?” Maria asked, nervously threading her fingers.

The grandmaster paused. “The kid, the kid in the Robin suit, where did we put him?”

“With the rest.” Maria shrugged. “Just like we always do.”

The Talons came back. One kneeled before saying. “Gone.”

“Which ones?” The grandmaster demanded.

“All of them.”

“Well, that’s it then.” the grandmaster reached for his mask and pulled it off to the gasps of the people in the room. “We’re screwed. It’s over.”

Maria shot to her feet. “They were just future Talons. We can still turn this around you spineless asshole! God why did we ever get rid of Clark? There was a man of vision!”

“They weren’t just future Talons.” The grandmaster glared. “They were insurance and without them, Gotham will turn on us. There were so many pieces to the plan but the vital ones were the children and Wayne Enterprises. Without either it’s useless.” 

“Sir,” one man held a tablet out to him.

“Yes?” The old man asked eyes rising off the table to glare daggers at the man.

“You might want to see this.”

“Don’t attempt to adjust your sets kiddos.” A menacing voice said before the shadows peeled back to reveal a notable man in a purple jumpsuit cross on leg over the other. He leaned forward. “There’s something we need to talk about. Something important you need to know.”

“What the hell is he doing?” Dick mumbled as Alfred leaned over his shoulder to watch the tablet screen.

“What Master Bruce expects him to.” Alfred’s brow furrowed as he exchanged a worried look with Dick.

“We need to talk about Gotham. About all the little people in it. You see for a while children have gone missing. One second they are there. The next they are not.” Jester fanned his fingers and snapped to illustrate his point. “It’s all part of the plan you see, to control Gotham. A plan that began when Gotham was formed in the 1600s. But here’s the thing about scheming and following plans my dear Court of Owls. Plans are for fucking losers.”

Dick’s eyebrows shot up. John was practically vibrating the air around him in his anger and disgust.

“I took your little scheme and I turned it on it’s head with just some stocks and a file folder of papers.” The Jester smiled brightly as he held up the envelope. “And I’m just getting started. Now, it’s come to my attention that you hold the commissioner’s daughter and you feel so secure because it’s all part of the plan. He can’t touch you.”

“They have _Barbara_?” Dick’s chest constricted painfully. He saw her, beautiful, whole and healthy. Her smile, the kindness that was always present in her eyes. He could feel her life slipping through his fingers. Bruce’s shadow may be long and dark but properly motivated so was Dicks.

“But here’s the thing.” Jester smiled and leaned back placing his hands on the arm rests. “Considering all the little children you have stolen from loving families, _they_ might have a thing or two to say about it. Having lost a child of my own I can sympathize and since the police can’t help you, I suggest we help each other.”

The Jester’s eyes were covered by the domino mask but Dick could see the tightness around the edges. John was hurting.

“The following names appearing on the screen are people who took them. The dreaded Court of Owls are nothing but a bunch of privileged assholes who think they control everything. Let’s introduce them to a little anarchy and remind them why they can't.”

“Jesus Christ they will rip these people apart!” Dick jumped to his feet and was racing for his bike sitting in the cave. He didn’t know how to control the situation but if dad taught him anything, it was to be present for such things and give hope where there was none.

“Master Dick!” Alfred shouted as Dick whirled around. “Head to the old apartment building on Main and Wellington. Someone just sent us a signal.”

_Bruce._ Dick let out a quick breath of relief before shoving his helmet over his head. He understood now what Pops was really doing. John was mobilizing the masses, scattering the courts attention to provide dad with an opening to get the kids out. It was going to turn into a massacre if dad didn’t work fast enough. Which is why he sent Dick the signal. He needed back up. 

“You should have returned him an hour ago.” John warned before the satellite signal went dead. 

The Court of Owls had existed since the founding of Gotham. It had lived and thrived into a business, a secret empire within the gothic walls and streets of the city. It took the Jester and Batman ten hours to rip it down. Once the Jester had posted the names of the people involved with the kidnappings the city tore its self apart to find each and every person responsible.

Some of them were still alive.

As for the children, all returned except for Stephanie Brown and Timothy Drake. They mysteriously disappeared during the ruckus. Jean had tried to find them to use them against Batman but it was a wasted effort. She was nearly caught when James Gordon and the GCPD stormed what was left of the ‘secret hideout’ of Court of Owls. When she arrived at the club, she saw the news report run footage of the heroic Nightwing rescue Barbara Gordon and swing her to safety in the shelter of his arms. The media was in love with it. It was all so sickeningly sweet she nearly lost her lunch. Without her Jim had no reason to stay his hand.

She stayed at the Iceberg Lounge watching it all go up in flames with a sense of disappointment not apprehension. She was waiting for her ticket to freedom to walk up and make no mistake, she would be free. When the doors banged off the walls behind her, she knew he had arrived and she had all the paper work sitting next to her martini glass.

“Get your fucking ass up.” John snarled slamming his hands down on her table. He wasn’t in uniform, freshly showered to get ash and crushed stone off his body. He looked a right mess. She deduced he hadn’t found Bruce yet and her heart soared. If they hadn’t talked her odds of walking out of this place a free woman increased tenfold.

“John,” Jean hoisted her drink and he slapped it out of her hand before hauling her up by the lapels of her suit jacket.

“I’m going to enjoy watching the bars slam home on your cell.” He gritted out.

Jean rolled her eyes. “If you do that then you won’t find out about the people who hired me.”

“The Court of Owls are finished.” John narrowed his gaze, lips pursed tight and his knuckles were white from the hold he had on her.

“That was only the Gotham chapter my dear. I have the paper work on the European chapter right here.” Jean smiled as she took his wrists and pushed his grip free. He stepped back, surprise flashing across his features before he frowned at her.

“More lies Jean?”

“Truth dear John. I have no need to lie.”

John reached for the folder before she snatched his wrist and wagged a finger back and forth in front of his face.

She smirked. “Not so fast. This is a negotiation my dear.”

He crossed his arms over his thin chest. “Let me guess you go free in exchange for the paper work.”

Jean’s smile was feral. “That’s part of it.”

She reached into her brief case and took out a thousand-page document and held it out to him. He took it and read over the top part, eyes widening in horror.

“I want your divorce finalized. Once you sign away your marriage you get the paper work and a file download to your email account. Needless to say, I walk out of here without so much as a slap on the wrist.” Jean explained as she uncapped a pen for him to use. He looked a breath away from stabbing her with it before he flipped through the divorce settlement.

John’s gaze latched on to the elegant signature at the end next to his empty one. Jean had paid a handsome sum for it to look authentic. The plan was tits up but this was her _pièce de résistance_. The _only_ thing she really wanted. The only reason to get out of bed to deal with shit bags like the Court of Owls. Revenge was a dish best served cold.

His voice quivered as he shook head back and forth. “But-but we’re going to reconcile. I know he loves me-”

Jean had been schooled from day one what to say to John to make him dance to her tune. Her blazing hatred of Bruce and their fucking ‘happy ever after’ focused her. She stood up and patted his shoulder.

“Honey, he’s Batman. He was only stringing you along for the case.” She cooed gently and took great joy in how his face crumpled. There was always this mean streak in that asshole. Batman would use anyone to crack the case. Even those who loved him.

“Your lying.” He hissed gripping her throat and forcing her back up against the table. She held up her hands.

“Look at the facts John! Where were you when he needed you? Exactly where he thought you would be. He had it all planned out and now that he doesn’t need you, it’s time to put you back in your place. He’s wounded, hurt, and you did that to him. He’ll never love you again! I should know. Ray will never love me either.” Jean choked out before John released her. She sagged rubbing the air back into her throat.

John took out his phone. “I’ll call him.”

Jean giggled. “Go ahead.”

She knew they had his phone.

When he didn’t answer John tucked it away. “I’ll wait for him at home.”

“So you can be escorted off the property like a trespasser. Sure, go ahead.” Jean smiled, victory just within her reach.

“Alfred told me he loves me.” John was grasping at straws, panicked, afraid. Exactly where she needed him to be. She remembered that feeling, that empty loneliness, when Ray finally kicked her to the curb. She could feel it coming to rip her heart out. It gave her intense satisfaction to do it to him.

“Alfred _works_ for him. And Selina told me she’s going there tonight for dinner.” Jean sipped her drink and retrieved the pen. It was time to end this pathetic conversation and get what she wanted. “You could just leave, hand me over to the cops and let the court do something monstrous to Bruce. After all he’s done to you it would be fitting after all.”

John placed the document onto the table, he loomed over it silently for a good long time before he held out his hand for the pen.

“I’d never let anything happen to him. You got a deal.”

In a disjointed scrawl he signed his name. Jean’s paid courier took the papers and sealed them into an envelope to deliver them to the court house. John snatched up her information and turned on his heel. Jean let out a long breath she had been holding since Ray divorced her.

“Oh look Alan’s here.” Jean said as she gathered her coat. John whirled as Alan Scott rushed up to grip his arms.

“Thank God, I was so worried when I found out what happened to Gotham. Are you ok John?” Alan said full of concern at a time when John desperately needed someone to care about him. Damn she was good at what she did. She left them to their reunion to make her escape.

There was chance Bruce might recover quick enough to destroy her plans but if he was taken nearly forty hours ago when he was stabbed, he would need some serious medical attention. She was banking on his fatigue to work in her favor. If not, she would be long gone by the time he caught wind of what she had done. What the Court of Owls couldn’t do.

Strike a heart shattering blow against the dark knight.

“Master John, welcome home sir.” Alfred embraced him and John sank wearily into that embrace. It was nearly 2:00 am in the morning. It was all over, the city was still on fire but the GCPD was keeping an eye on it. Reports Batman and Robin were springing up all over the news. It made John’s heart ache to see another boy wearing that costume but he also knew that someone had to be around to watch Bruce’s back. He would not. Alan Scott was in the driveway waiting for him. They were going away to Paris for a while. John would have put him off if not for the one thought drumming through his mind on repeat.

Bruce signed the divorce. He signed their marriage away. The truce had been for the case, not because he wanted to work with him but because he needed to _use _him.

Back in their Pact days, Bruce had manipulated him. He let him because it had been so much fun. It wasn’t fun anymore.

“Is he back?” John was hoping to speak to him, at least try to understand why he thought the subterfuge was necessary. He would have helped regardless. It couldn’t be what Jean Loring said it was despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

“In the bedroom hooked up to an IV and freshly bandaged. He finally let me treat him on the threat of being bed ridden for a month.” Al smiled as he carried the bowl of blood and used bandages towards the cave. “Go say hello, we’ve been worried about you all day.”

John nodded his head weakly. “Is there anyway I could retrieve my things Al?”

“A fresh change of clothes is in the blue room. I had them moved there this afternoon for your convenience. The jewelry is in the dresser in your bedroom.” Al said confusing his intent.

John headed pass the damaged walls, picked his way up the stairs and checked in on the guest rooms. In the orange room Barbara laid with Dick’s arm around her waist on the bed. Dick was still in his uniform, his mask off his face. In the gold room Tiffany was sleeping soundly. Two kids, one black hair and one blond passed out on the couches with her. In the red room Jim Gordon was snoring up a storm still in his work clothes. Wayne Manor might be blown up and riddled with holes but it was still the safest place in Gotham at the moment.

Assured everyone was safe and sound, he walked back to the blue room. With a heavy heart he grabbed what he could fit into a single suitcase and stuffed it. The only jewelry he took was the gold Ace of Spades cufflinks.

He kept his emotions under wraps. It would not do for Bruce to see his lower lip tremble. With hesitant steps he found his way to their bedroom where his dark prince lay in bed, black quilt pulled up to his chest, IV line in his hand feeding him much needed medication. He had put himself through hell but he managed to save Gotham. Even now, in the dim light of the night table lamp, he looked ever so handsome. John’s smile fell when he smelled the faint traces of perfume in the air.

Selina had come and gone.

John reached for his hand. “I just thought I would stop by and say a proper good bye for once.”

Bruce’s body twitched.

“We did it. Just as we said we would. We worked the case and got those kids back. We did for them what we couldn’t do for Jason.”

John’s throat constricted as the tears welled up in his eyes.

“You don’t have to lie to me anymore.”

John dashed his tears away with the back of his hand. He forced himself to get it out as Bruce’s head tossed to the side, he blinked rapidly before his eyes popped opened, his pupils were enlarged from the drugs. He couldn’t focus but he managed to locate John.

John squeezed his hand.

“I think it’s time we let go of each other. Now that I know you’re ready, I’m ready too. I’m going to Paris for the fall with Alan. You can have breathing room with Selina. It’s for the best my love.”

It felt like his world was ending all over again. 

“But you’ll always have me here.” John put a hand over his heart. The pace of his heartbeat quickened under his touch. “Anytime you need me I’ll be here. If you haven’t noticed I’ll always be here for you. For the case, for the city, or just you.”

Bruce struggled to say something. “S….S…”

John closed his eyes. It was obvious who he was trying to ask for and it wasn’t him.

“Selina was here just a moment ago. She’ll be back in the morning I imagine. A few words of advice my dear before I go. Give that kid a proper chance. Don’t argue with Dick when he wants to go back to the academy and _his _city. Tell Tiffany I’ll see her abroad and tell Jim he knows he can reach should he need an extra pair of eyes. And for the love of God, don’t sass Alfred when he pumps you full of medicine. He will ground you from the cave for a month and we all know what a miserable bitch you are when you aren’t working. For everyone’s sanity be nice.”

That was it. No more business to attend to, nothing left to be said. Only numb acceptance to the fact they would never be together.

Bruce gripped his figures, a sheen of sweat on his brow. Eyes rolling and lids falling before they snapped open in a fight to stay awake.

John leaned forward to brush the hair off his forehead before Bruce lurched up and kissed him. Whatever thoughts, whatever plans, flew from his mind as Bruce thrust his tongue into his mouth and kissed him with all the passion that had laid dormant for _months_. John knew it was wrong, obviously he had mistaken his green eyes for Selina but for one second he didn’t care. Selina was going to get all his kisses, she could afford to let John have this one.

And what a damn fine kiss it was.

Bruce knew how to damage people until they couldn’t lift themselves up off the floor, he had learned his techniques all over the world. Some of that instruction had a flip side to the opposite effect. Pleasure was something Bruce could bring out of him with an ease so swift it left John breathless. Their tongues lapped around each other, lips angling for the better caress and all the heat denied to him surged up thundering in his ears. Bruce wrapped a weak arm around his back and pulled him close as John gripped the back of his head, fighting the urge to straddle him so they could rut against each other like wild animals.

With a jolt he reined in his baser instincts and remembered this was a goodbye. This was their last kiss and he should savor it for as long as he could, not debase it with lust. All too soon they came up for air as Bruce leaned back into his bed and passed out. John didn’t blame him. He was a little overwhelmed himself. 

He kissed his forehead before standing back and taking the rings off his hand. He placed them on the nightstand and grabbed his suitcase. Most people wait their whole lives to find what he had with Bruce, it was such a shame Bruce couldn’t look pass what happened to find what they had again.

He was passing through the open front door when he heard.

“Master John? Where are you going?” Alfred caught him.

John turned around tiredly. “Paris.”

Alfred’s eyebrows shot up. “Why? Come and have a smoke with me, talk to me and explain what’s going on.”

John pulled his trench coat closer to his body to ward off the sudden chill. Jean’s words echoed in his head. _Alfred works for him_. “Al, he signed the papers.”

Alfred’s jaw dropped. “_I’m sorry_?”

“He signed them. I signed them this afternoon. It seems he only needed me for the case.” John was proud he didn’t sob his way through the declaration. It still stung, like a dull throb from an old wound that refused to heal.

“That’s not true! Who told you this nonsense? What about what we talked about this afternoon?” Alfred started to walk forward, bewildered as John was by the sudden turn of events.

John couldn’t stand to stay. Not if he wanted to be mentally healthy. “I have to go. Thanks for looking out for me while I was here. I’ll miss you dear friend.”

This time he did cry and dragging his suitcase he fled down the steps to the town car waiting for him.

“Sir wait! John stop!” Alfred was chasing after him as he handed the suitcase to the driver.

John jumped into the car and Alan took his hand. “It’s ok sweetheart. It’s ok.”

He left Wayne Manor behind and with it the only real home he had known. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so some stray things.
> 
> 1\. The perfume in the air was Barbara. Dead on her feet she decided to douse herself in it to mask the body odor. Canoodling with Dick required immediate help. 
> 
> 2\. She's not Batgirl, and it's not Batman who inspires her- it's Dick and his rescue. 
> 
> 3\. Tim and Stephanie got away with crime fighting with their idol all day by playing the old trick of calling their parents and telling them that they were staying over at each other's houses. Considering the turmoil in the city as a parent, if my kid was somewhere safe, I'd buy it. Which is why they are passed out at the manor without their parents going ape shit. 
> 
> 4\. Jean's plan only works if John doesn't immediately talk to a cohesive Bruce. The timeline is tight and although Bruce could power through with a wound that left him nearly dead he needs time to bounce back. Making it the perfect window to blind side John and get him to do what she needed. She's a subtle antagonist. In the beginning of the story she seemed to have it out for John. Good reason, her jealousy over their happy marriage motivated her.


	12. Disappearing in Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The people of Paris would talk about what happened for years to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooohhh boy this is a long chapter. I'm so sorry but there was a lot of plot left (to go with a good helping of smut) and I debated cutting it in two but I did promise smut and if I did that I felt the story would drag on. 
> 
> So here it is! 
> 
> Make sure to be comfy before sitting down to read. 
> 
> And thank you for reading!

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” John asked trying to hide his excitement. He had been hiding his feelings for the past four days. It was becoming second nature by now.

“I’m sorry John. Fashion isn’t really my thing. I need to take care of some work anyway.” Alan shrugged as he gestured to the laptop sitting on the glass kitchen table. John had secretly hoped he would say that. Givenchy was putting on a show and he would _hate_ to leave because his new beau didn’t want to stay. This would give him some much-needed breathing room and time to think.

“Are you wearing that?” Alan cocked an eyebrow at his outfit.

John was wearing tight dark jeans, a red button down open scandalously down his chest and over it a black leather jacket with gold zippers along the arms. He looked fresh to death.

“Do you like it?” He did a small turn around and his smile faltered at the frown on Alan’s lips. 

“It’s a bit much for drinks tonight.” Alan sat back crossing his arms over his chest. In contrast to the ever-fashionable John, he was wearing a plain green t-shirt and beige slacks. He had no right to judge what he was wearing.

“Do we have to go? I was thinking of hitting La Mano and dancing the night away.” John was itching to do damn well _something_ on this vacation of theirs other than trying to be happy. The wine tour Alan surprised him with wasn’t a big hit since he was on heavy anti psychotics. He had visited most of the touristy spots back when Bruce introduced John to the city years ago. Anywhere they went they were mobbed by _La Jon Jonz_, John’s personal fan group who loved to dye their hair green and wear pasty makeup in his honor. Beyond that the paparazzi were giving Alan a serious case of jealous with their obsessive questions about Bruce or if they were still divorcing.

They arrived four days ago. They still have another three days and John was all out of ideas how to fill them.

He _knew_ how Alan would prefer to fill them and he couldn’t bring himself to do more then press a quick kiss to his cheek. Alan was fit, trim, and John could shred cheese on those washboard abs but for the life of him he panicked anytime Alan did more than hold his hand. He was trying to overcome this obstacle but it was difficult and although Alan never pressed for more, John could see he was becoming disenchanted with their new relationship.

Sometimes John wanted to disappear in the Paris streets to stop disappointing him.

Alan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know I need those investors for the broadcasting company. After the shit Bruce pulled-”

“I put an end to that when I was CEO.” John cut in. The mere mention of Bruce’s name made him want to crawl into bed to escape the world. Every time the reporters asked how he was, every time anyone asked where _Monsieur Wayne_ was, John was thrown back into the depression he desperately sought to escape. There was no case, no divorce to divert his attention. It was just Alan and the more time they spent the together forcing this thing the more exhausted he became. It was agony he couldn’t pick up the phone and call the one person he was comfortable enough to share this with.

“Honey, you were CEO of WE for a day. This will take months to right. Cocktail hour is at 7:00 in The Greenhouse of Auteuil. Please come dressed in a suit. The driver will make sure you get there on time.” Alan turned back to the screen. End of discussion. For a second John was tempted to put up a fuss and be a bitch just to see if he could get Alan to crawl out of his comfortable little work shell. He never had to fight with Bruce when he wanted to blow off a boring meeting. Bruce would play hooky with him at a drop of the hat.

“I’ll see you at 7:00.”

A grunt was his goodbye. John left the beige kitchen, crossed the blue tile onto the soft plush white carpet, he passed the white leather sofa and driftwood coffee table to the private elevator. Once inside he sank against the clean mirrors and took a deep cleansing breath.

His phone pinged. He ignored it knowing it was Dick checking up on his medication intake and gushing about how perfect his new girlfriend was. He had been treated to forty couple pictures already. John sorely wished he was there to take Barbara shopping or out to dinner to get to know her better. He trusted a certain someone, who he wasn’t _thinking about right now_, was on his best behavior without his supervision. He better be supportive as hell of this new development without pushing the kids together to join the two households like the blue blood he was. John knew what he was like when he fixated on a new project.

When the elevator doors clicked open, John took out his gold aviator glasses for the intense flashes from the cameras. He missed Wayne Manor with the closed community wall to keep paparazzi out. His phone pinged again but until he was safely in the Lexus and the driver was leaving the hubbub behind, was he tempted to even look at it.

It wasn’t Dick who wrote him.

One BHubs bat emoji texted. _I miss you. Please tell me where you are. _

John clutched the phone to his head. Every day, at the same time for four days straight, _I miss you _or _talk to me _or his favorite _I made a mistake_. He didn’t respond. What was there really to say? Bruce signed the papers, this was just a tactic to get him to work another case. Talk Freeze off the ledge. Maybe he wanted him to guide Dick on proper dating etiquette. It could be a hundred other things John did for him on a daily basis that he was too busy to deal with himself. John was half tempted to text him a cat emoji.

_ Well I don’t miss you! _He typed out the thought before deleting it. 

He told himself that he didn’t miss Bruce, three maybe four times a day now. It was just one more lie on top of the others. 

“_Jon-Jon!_”

John gritted his teeth and plastered a smile on his lips. Renee Charles Ostagar had finally managed to corner him. He had been ducking him all night in an attempt to dodge his ceaseless questions. The man had a fortune as large as his pot belly which entitled him to be rude to everyone else. He had already asked John about Amanda Waller and her secret prison without taking into account John’s trauma from his association with her. John turned around in a circle to find Alan, he was still missing. He disappeared to get a drink fifteen minutes ago. _Just like a superhero, never around when you need one. _He thought as he debated hiding behind a rather large fern. He would have to mount the brown flower bed but it might be worth getting dirt on his dark green silk diner jacket and black slacks.

He debated rushing into the thick crowd stuffed into the glass green house. Between the celebrities, the mayor, his entourage, the high society visiting from London, the caterers, and the hosts, surely he could find some coverage. His green hair would give him away, if not the purple makeup and red lips would.

“Jon-Jon, I’m starting to think you were avoiding me.” Renee scolded as John rolled his eyes upwards before turning around to address the balding man in a white suit.

“Heaven forbid, I was just trying to find Alan,” who had ditched him yet again in a large crowd.

“I have more questions.” Renee said as he took his arm, John resisted the urge to slap him off. Strangers were not welcomed to put hands on him regardless of their social standing and the size of their bank accounts.

He gently tugged himself free. “Monsieur Ostagar, we’re surrounded by exquisite beauty. Perhaps we should enjoy it than dredge up old boring history.”

John had never wanted someone to drop dead as much as he wanted this man too. He glanced around in vain for salvation. No such luck.

“But Jon-Jon, I wanted to know how you did it.” Renee said leaning in so John could smell the garlic on his breath.

“Did what?” John crossed his arms over his chest.

“Murder my dear sir.” Renee had a gleam in his eye. “How did you murder Pyg?”

John went straight into panic mode. His face went pale as his eyes darted around the space. He wondered if the couple next to them were looking at him, did everyone overhear that? His chest constricted as he tugged on his green bow tie.

“Is it a little warm in here?” John asked as he went cold, his elbows ached from injection marks that were no longer there and hadn’t been there for years.

“It’s a simple question,” Renee continued as if he didn’t see the sweat gather on John’s brow. “I’m vastly interested in how it all went down.”

“Read an article than, there are thousands to pick from.” John sneered, his stomach rolled when the fleshy pig face mask rose up from his dark memories. God where was Alan? What the hell was so important he would leave him at a time like this? Who the fuck asked someone how they murdered other people? This was _insane_!

Renee’s gleeful face fell. “But I want a firsthand account-”

“Monsieur Ostagar_, _it is beneath a man of your standing to be asking such things.” 

John’s racing thoughts came a crashing halt as Bruce put a hand on his lower back and spread his fingers. John’s pulse levelled out and his composure returned. Despite the divorce, the cat and fucking everything, John wrapped an arm around his waist and resisted the urge to bury his head into his neck. He was the only thing standing between John running screaming from the room or strangling Renee so he could experience murder ‘firsthand’

“Monsieur Wayne. I did not know you were in Paris.” Renee backed up as Bruce loomed over him, the air crackled from the suppressed fury he kept tightly coiled inside. Like an animal sensing danger, the esteemed Ostagar knew on a primal level to back up. 

“Just arrived,” Bruce smiled, it was sharp enough to chop Renee into little pieces, “and not a moment too soon. What are you doing Renee?”

Renee shrugged and replied, his accent thick. “I do not know what you accuse me of.”

Bruce stalked forward, his fingers shifted from John’s lower back, trailed along his forearm and burned their way to his left hand. He clasped it painfully tight, anchoring John in the moment by forcing him to focus on the intense touch.

“I accuse you of hunting John through the party to send him into a tailspin of insanity for your _amusement_.” Bruce glared.

Renee mopped his brow with a handkerchief. “Nonsense my good man-”

“_Shut up_.” Bruce had this way of barking at people to make them snap to attention. He was not the dotting idiot playboy tonight. He was angry and for the life of him, John was getting hard from it.

“You look tired Renee, it’s time you went home now.” Bruce’s voice had dropped to an icy whisper.

Renee had two choices. He could defy Bruce and endure the consequences like a man. Wayne was an international business and the brand was strong overseas. One little word in the right people’s ear and his lucrative business was toast. Or he could go home to lick his wounds and keep his investment out of Bruce’s warpath.

“_Au revoir_ friends. I suddenly find myself in need of quieter pursuits.” Renee cheerfully left them and John nearly sank to his knees as he started to pull his hand away. Bruce relaxed his hold but gave John’s fingers a brief squeeze before he dropped them altogether. John put distance between them despite the overwhelming urge to glue himself to Bruce’s side.

“Not that I’m ungrateful for the sudden save, but what are you doing here?” John crossed his arms over his chest and hunched into himself.

“Can we speak in private?” Bruce glanced around. “I hate small parties, there’s never any privacy.”

John cocked an eyebrow, it was a gathering of nearly a hundred and fifty. He suddenly noticed people were whispering behind their hands, casting glances at the famous Waynes. They were standing only two feet away from each other exchanging words. The tabloids would have a field day. 

“All right, let me find Alan.” John turned to go but Bruce caught his arm gently.

“In the interest of being honest, I used my one emergency with the league to call him away. I estimate we have forty-five minutes before he catches on.” Bruce shifted foot from foot. Everyone got one emergency that wasn’t a real emergency. Wonder Woman used hers two years ago to put off breaking up with Steve. Superman used his eight years ago to get out of a dinner with Lana Lang and Lois.

Bruce was finally using his. John honestly thought he had more integrity and he was a little sore he would have to pony up ten dollars to Alfred who bet he would use it before the century was out. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why? Why are you even-”

“Please John.” Bruce leaned in and using his index finger, title his head up so they could look each other in the eye. He could never say no to Bruce, even when he was out to destroy him. Being the love of his life and father to their sons worked wonders in his favor.

“Fine. Lead the way.” John pulled his chin off his finger and glared. Bruce pivoted on his heel, kept to the outskirts of the crowd as he led John through the hot house towards the back to another section. There was a red velvet rope holding a sign over the door to warn people away.

“Where’s Selina?” John forced himself to ask.

“She’s been in Italy for the past six days.” Bruce unlocked the door, opened it and held it for him.

“Wait-what?” John did the math. He left Gotham three nights ago.

“Will you just get in here so I can explain everything.” Bruce gestured with his head impatiently. John crossed through and he locked it behind him. This room was full of large desert palm trees. They crowded the glass shielding them from spectators. In the middle of the room were two white leather lounge chairs. Bruce sat down before he gestured for John to take a seat next to him.

He did so reluctantly.

“Do you have any idea how confused I was to wake up after sixteen hours only to find your wedding rings on the bedside table? I thought we had a truce.” Bruce ran a hand down his face. His own wedding ring was firmly in place much to John’s surprise.

He felt the swift sting of guilt before righteous fury replaced it. “Only until the case was over. It’s over now. Selina can keep you company. Don’t even try to _deny _it, I smelled her perfume when I finally managed to track you down.”

“That was Barbara! Stephanie had the great fucking idea to use perfume to mask any odors she had picked up during the day and she used more then she should have. Good thing Wayne Manor has no walls to speak of, it’s everywhere.” Bruce exploded tossing his hands in the air before he reined himself in.

John wanted to believe him. “But Jean said you were using me-”

“Oh _big surprise_ the psycho bitch trying to rip us apart lied to you.” Bruce glared.

“It made sense!” John defended himself getting to his feet so he towered over him. He wanted to walk out but Bruce was here, in Paris and even though they were arguing there was nowhere else he wanted to be.

“How? I was dead on my feet fighting an infection from my stab wound. I could barely stand up let alone woo and wine anybody!” Bruce’s logic was hard to beat except for one important fact.

“You use people dear, you’d do anything to crack the case, I know this.” John ripped his heart out and stomped on his own ego to admit it out loud. And boy did it hurt, worse than anything Renee Ostagar had to say to him.

The fight went right out of Bruce as his shoulders relaxed and his face fell. He wrapped his arms around John’s waist and leaned his head into his stomach. “Listen to me love, I fucked up. I wanted to seduce the hell out of you by working the case together and bring us close again. Then the Court of Owls attacked and screwed my plans. It was always my intention to beg you to take me back. So please, _please_ take me back. I don’t care what you did with him, I don’t give a fuck about him, I just want to take you home.”

John needed a moment for that to sink in. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he could have this conversation. He sat back down to face Bruce on the lounge, not trusting his legs to keep him upright.

“I screamed I hated you and spat blood in your face.” John mumbled leaning his head into Bruce’s shoulder, god he smelled fantastic. All earthy musk and leather and _home_.

“I tossed you in Arkham and divorced you.” Bruce wrapped an arm around his shoulders as he leaned his head against the top of Johns.

“You really want me back?” John swallowed thickly and forced himself to catch Bruce’s eye. Bruce could mask his emotions better then anyone however John had learned his tells and right now there was no mask.

This was as naked as he got.

“Honey I realize it would be a clean slate with him,” Bruce’s mouth twisted in disgust alongside Johns, “and I know we can live without each other. We proved that these past few months.”

“Calling it living is a bit of a stretch.”

“But this,” Bruce linked their fingers, “right here, is everything I could ever want. I could love again but it would never be this and if I can’t have this, I don’t want anything else.”

John wanted to give in. This was the open door he had been looking for, but to his surprise he was terrified. Bruce had been honest the least he could do was be brave enough to return the gesture.

He gripped the hand that held his. “I’m scared shitless of losing you again.”

Bruce smiled and it was a brittle thing. “I’m fucking terrified. I am, however, willing to take the chance. The question is, are you?”

An alarm went off. Brow furrowed, Bruce took out his phone and heaved a sigh as he clicked it off. “Our forty-five minutes are up. You don’t have to say anything or do anything right now. I know he-”

John felt his life with Bruce start to slip through his fingers, more tangible then it had ever been. For once, in his miserable existence, the choice was there to put an end to his suffering.

He did the only sane thing he could think of.

He grabbed Bruce by the back of his head and they fell backwards on the lounge. As John dragged him over his body, he forced his tongue into his mouth to lick and caress. The taste of all they had ever been and all they could be drove them into a frenzy. John knew it was wrong, knew a better man would put Bruce on hold and go out into the crowd to find Alan and do the decent thing.

John had never been a good man.

He could feel Bruce’s excitement through the thin layers of cotton separating them and he ground their hips together wantonly. John took a shuddering breath as Bruce attacked his neck with nips and sucks along the jugular, heating up the smoldering flames that been dormant for months.

Between gasps of delight John managed to string together coherent thought. “Not that I’m opposed to fucking senselessly next to a party,” they were _never _that shy and more than once John had Bruce’s tie shoved into his mouth to stop his thrilled screams, “but it might kill the mood to have someone with a power ring-”

John let out a loud gasp as Bruce ripped his pants zipper down. His tantalizing familiar five fingers and generous palm start to stroke his hard on. John’s head fell back, hanging off the lounge at an awkward angle as he moaned loudly in the silence. His whole body alive. _Yes, touch me, come on baby I’m yours. _

“-find us,”

Bruce shoved his tongue into his mouth shorting out his brain.

“-and kill us.” John finally finished twisting his fingers into those silken black strands and yanking Bruce’s head back so he could lavish nips along his jaw. The aftershave might make him cum in his pants.

“Right, danger, green ring, I get it.” Bruce carefully zipped him back up. “Any objections to a limo?”

They’ve done that before. “Did Alfred drive you here?”

That was a line John refused to cross and he knew Alfred appreciated not being privy to that aspect of their marriage.

“No but there is a slew of them outside. Currently unoccupied while the drivers watch the game at the chalet at the far side of the property. Let’s go before our super friend shows up.” Bruce dragged him to his feet and they escaped chuckling out the back door. The alarm system had been disabled and the party inside the green house went on without anyone the wiser. Bruce teasingly pulled John along until they came to the row of empty stretch limos. True to Bruce’s word the drivers were nowhere to be seen. Bruce took out a lock pick and presto he had a nice _private_ setting.

He tossed John up against the back seat and attacked, ripping his suit jacket off and the white button down followed soon after. He unlocked the belt and whipped it right off him before dragging his briefs and pants down his thighs to his knees. John’s erection hit the air for a moment before Bruce’s mouth sucked it back, making him arch his back and part his thighs further. Bruce used his hands to pin John to the seat by holding him down by his chest. Those lips went from tip to root and back again, hot arousal curling in his belly.

“Honey, it’s been a while, slow down.” John panted before he bit down on his lip and hissed breath through tightly clenched teeth. Bruce was shedding his jacket, still working away. John caught sight of the bandage on his side. But all thought went out of his head as Bruce swirled over the tip making John ache down to his very bones. He knew how many licks he had left before he ended the evening early and Bruce knew him well enough to set a rhythm that tortured him without release.

Even though it killed him, he framed Bruce’s face and pulled him up as he kicked his pants free. John wiggled out of his before angling his head and bringing Bruce’s lips back to his. They exchanged a kiss that was all taste and tease while John pushed him back on his knees and sat on his lap wrapping his long legs around his waist, careful of the wound. He tasted himself and a shiver of possessive lust went down his back.

They rubbed naked hard on against hard on as Bruce patted his black dinner jacket before pulling out a little bottle. He squirted some in his hand and tossed it into a glass holder nearby. John’s pulse was racing already, it kicked up a notch when Bruce wrapped their erections in his fist and started pumping up and down.

“_God_.”

“_Ah_.” John abandoned any pretense of being human, he bucked into the hand. The delicious friction brought a flush to his whole body. This was heaven, some how he had it back and god damn when he raked his nails down Bruce’s large back, it took everything not to cum.

Bruce opened his eyes, heavy with desire. He cradled John’s spine and the back of head before he rolled them until was John on the ground. Ever so gently Bruce pushed his thighs apart and retrieved the bottle.

“Take a little time love.” John was memorized by the large amount dripping down from the bottle to the hard shaft before him. “I’ve only been using my fingers.”

Bruce cupped his cheek. “I’ll be gentle.”

Then he rested his elbows next to his head and leaned down to place most of his weight on John. And the _feel _of it made John inhale sharply. How could he ever think he could live without this? He was fool.

Bruce went slow, slipping in pass the tight anal ring with a gasp. It was the start of a seven inch ride that John was incredibly excited for. Precum leaked out as John kept track of each inch slipping deeper inside his body.

_ One_ went in gently, John resisted the urge to buck his hips. _Patience, patience_, he chanted over and over. _Fuck me_, his body responded as a needy whine escaped.

_ Two._

“You’re killing me.” Bruce nipped his lips heavily panting, he was shaking. John’s nails were digging into his biceps. He was blessed with a very muscular lover. 

_ Three. _John was starting to get a little desperate. He might simultaneously combust if this kept up. “You know I’m good, better than good, I’m so _ready_.”

“Fucks sake John, stop saying that.” Bruce thrust his tongue into his mouth to shut him up and they both moaned when they passed _four. _

_ Five. _Two more to go and he was ready to bust his load all over their stomachs. Bruce paused. John took a breather however the horny was torturing him. The slight burn didn’t even deter him. It was so good, so intense and they weren’t even fucking yet.

“Everything good?” John asked, his mouth dry.

“Just needed a moment.” Bruce growled. Two more inches, two more before John would be split open and fucked crazy. It was just a second away and he couldn’t damn wait. He worked five backwards to the four inch mark and Bruce moaned as if he had sucker punched his gut. It was music to his damn ears.

Bruce licked and kissed his way up to his ear. “Dear this is difficult. I haven’t exactly done this since you left. Please don’t tease.”

“I thought all those women-”

Bruce snorted. “I spent five seconds with them before I couldn’t take it anymore. I just wanted you to be jealous. Did it work?”

John wiggled his hips to get them pass five to _six._ Their breathing was heavy, fogging up the limo windows. “I’ve never been so green with envy in my life. I hated them. I didn’t even know them and I _hated _them.”

“Good.” Bruce whispered before he swept his tongue back into John’s mouth. “I hated him too.”

_ Seven_ got them to the _good_ place. The little bundle of nerves that made John rip his lips free to arch his neck with a jolt that ran through both of them.

“Fuck me, please, just-god Bruce-” John shook as Bruce’s tight control was lost to the pleas that fell from his lips. He shifted, cradled John’s round ass cheeks in his lap and moved. Nearly pulling all the way out before ramming home. Every thrust hit the spot and John forgot everything but the hot lightening strikes until he was beyond words, legs jerking with every precise hit against his prostate. It did burn, he was stuffed all the way, nearly split apart but it didn’t hurt. Bruce had worked him open until his body greedily swallowed all seven inches, thrust after thrust. Bruce slipped his palms into Johns and they threaded their fingers together tightly, holding on for dear life.

It couldn’t last. It wasn’t meant too, they were desperate, greedy men who were denied too much. It was given back to them and like needy bastards they gorged themselves on the hot desire.

John moaned with every push until his hips were rotating lost in the heat killing him from the inside out, he felt it rise, hear it in Bruce’s grunts until they were hurtling towards the end.

“That’s it, _just like that,_ please, please. I love you.”

The last chorus of pleas was lost to the guttural scream that followed. John flooded their stomachs while Bruce poured everything he had into John. They collapsed into a sweat soaked, cum covered, messy heap, arms around each other, hip to hip, chests rising and falling in sync.

“That beats the Bahamas.” Bruce swallowed thickly.

“Agreed.” John was floating in the warm after glow as he ran his hands down Bruce’s back gently. He fingered the larger scars gently. He knew each story to match the marks by heart. “It doesn’t beat the chandelier.”

Bruce’s body shook as he chuckled. He dragged himself up and looked around before taking a stack of cocktail napkins to clean himself up. He grabbed a set for John for him to do the same. “Nothing will ever beat the chandelier. But who’s to say we can’t give it the old college try.”

He snuggled back into John’s arms once they were relatively clean. He reached out to his jacket and grabbed his phone. John watched as he did a double take.

“Shit.”

“What is it?” John asked kissing his jaw softly.

“We need to move.” Bruce was pulling on his pants and grabbing his shirt. John sluggishly did the same. 

“Why?”

“John we’ve been at it for two hours. The party is over.” Bruce showed him the clock and his heart, which had been floating in the endorphins crashed into his stomach. The green house was a rented property, most of the people cleared out when the hosts did the last toast. Which was scheduled five minutes ago.

“Oh _shit!_”

“My rental car is parked at the back, let’s go. Stay low and follow my lead.” Bruce opened the door and peeked out to check if the coast was clear as John grabbed their dinner jackets. They were a right mess, there was no doubt what happened but for the life of him John couldn’t give a single fuck. He had been screwed seven ways till Sunday and the glow coming off his skin had nothing to do with a need for a shower. He had his marriage back. Not even a scandal this large could damper his night.

But it might damage WE if they were caught doing the naughty in the back of the limo before the official announcement.

Bruce held out his hand as he exited and John went scrambling behind him, keeping low, trying not to chuckle at the absurd situation they found themselves in. Somehow, they managed to navigate the near darkness and run over the hill away from the emerging crowd. Hand in hand they crossed the wet grass. It reminded John when they were young and innocent, running out of a hideout, laughing their heads off at 3 am in the morning. Without anyone noticing they vanished over the hill and into the starry night.

John walked down the floating wooden steps of Wayne 1 to find Bruce holding his phone. He didn’t snatch it back or panic. There were no more secrets to keep. Bruce was in a pair of cheap black flip flops and a pair of swim trunks that hugged his ass. John’s eyes swept over his chest and even though they had been screwing each other senseless for hours he felt the fire start to smolder again.

They hadn’t touched each other for months. Before they returned home, they needed to catch up on lost time before they accidentally taught the young kids more then they wanted to know about anal sex. 

“Did he text again?” John asked throwing a Hawaiian shirt over his shoulders. It complimented the blue swim trunks that were just a touch too small. If he bended over he was going to flash someone a half moon. This was by design, Bruce left them on the bed for him.

Bruce handed him his phone, mouth set in a firm line and his eyes lined in worry.

John looked down at the text. There were three and all of them pleaded for him to call.

He ran a hand through his green hair as he put it on the white marble counter. “I should break up with him in person.”

“I agree, you should send him on his way- _by text_.” Bruce grabbed a towel off the bright blue leather couch.

“Honey,” John wrapped his arms around his waist from behind and pressed his left cheek into his back, “nothing happened. He was good to me, he deserves closure.”

Bruce hung his head and gripped the arms around his waist. “I know, but my rational mind keeps warning me he’s a threat.”

John’s eyebrows rose up to his hairline. “A threat to what? To us? You must be joking.”

Bruce turned around in his arms. “He took you on a vacation to seduce you. I’m uncomfortable with your friendship. I’m sorry, I’m just scared you will realize how much better he is for you than me.”

John smiled and caressed the right side of his face. “What can I do to convince you of my commitment?”

A sly look crossed Bruce’s face before he walked over to the orange drawers of the kitchen and took out a small round black pod attached to an elastic.

“I have a few ideas. Let’s start with this.” Bruce walked back to stand before him. He yanked down John’s swim trunks and grasped the soft dick gently. He slid the pod onto the underside near the head and made sure the elastic was sitting comfortably before moving the shorts back up his hips. John’s breaths were coming out in pants.

He took a deep breath, wet his dry lips. “What are you-”

Bruce held up his phone, an app was running and when he clicked the green button the gauge on the left side spiked. The pod vibrated softly up against the underside of his penis head. He let out a gasp, _ooooohhhhhhh that’s good_.

“Let’s go relax on the bow and talk.” Bruce took his hand and pulled him through the sliding doors towards the yacht’s sunbathing deck. Wayne 1 was a beast, hosting one pool, one hot tub on the back, satellite reception, white plastic and blue tinted windows. Two bamboo lounge chairs padded with white leather waited for them. All the while the little black pod sent pleasant shivers down John’s spine.

They took seats as he grew harder. The glorious coast of Cannes was nearby, beautiful white beaches and gorgeous white stone houses. He could spot the paparazzi lining the shore, they were the size of ants but they were there. John was apprehensive of their far-reaching zoom lenses.

“I was thinking of having a small party when we get back to Gotham.” Bruce muttered as John sweated on the spot. He twitched when his dick gave a jump.

“Right…a welcome home party.” John muttered distractedly.

“Should we host a full sit down or just cocktails?” Bruce put on a pair of black Gucci sunglasses and turned on his side to face him, flicking through his phone. He let it fall under John’s gaze and with a tap kicked the vibrator up a notch. John bit down on his lower lip but the moan he tried to contain escaped. He struggled to remain relaxed against the onslaught knowing the yacht’s command center was above them.

“I-I don’t know…_fuck_.” He arched against the lounge giving in to the hot stabs of arousal. To the outside world it looked like he was adjusting his position on the lounge. His gaze fell on those thick fingers tapping away on the phone. _I want those in me. _

“You know I’ve been thinking.” Bruce cupped his face and his touched burned against his feverish skin. John lifted his sunglasses so he stare into his eyes. 

“I’m listening, I’m really, really listening.” John took a deep breath and forced himself to focus as Bruce leaned in dropping his hand from his face to grab a little bottle of lube hidden underneath his seat. He held it out to John who took it with shaking fingers before Bruce presented three of his own digits to coat. He tapped the phone against his thigh as John let the goop fall onto the fingers with a whimper.

“I know we should slow down.” Bruce let him slather his fingers before he took the bottle back and put it back under the chair, he gestured for John lay back down on his back. John gripped the lounge as Bruce held up the phone with his palm and his thumb clicked the green button. John’s hips gave an involuntary jolt as the vibrator started shaking making him toss his head against the lounge.

“_Bruce_,” his voice was pleading as Bruce leaned over and his hand coated in lube headed down his lower back and lower still. To anyone watching he was cuddling with his husband, the lounge protected them against the command deck, and John’s position protected his hand from being discovered by others on shore. A wet patch of precum was not visible so far away.

“I know we have a lot of emotional work to put into this relationship.” Bruce kissed his lips teasingly, lightly, knowing John wanted to shove his tongue into his mouth. John let out a gasp as he brushed the bundle of nerves of the anal ring. He caressed it, slicking it up, holding his eye with a growing need so similar to his own. John looked down and saw the bulge in his trunks. _I want that so fucking much._

“Right, right, cool idea, _go on_. God please-just-go on.” John rambled hips swiveling against the vibrating and back against his fingers.

Bruce pushed a finger in and he grunted against the hot intrusion. _So good! So damn good! _“I don’t want to wait on a baby. I really just want one with you. No dinner plans, no big announcement like last time. Just us and the receptacle. It feels right, doesn’t it?”

He added a _second finger_ and John nodded his head letting his thighs fall apart as Bruce continued to move in and out while the vibrator tested the limits of his control. He was pitching quiet the tent and if the zoom lenses caught it, he was too seduced to fucking care.

“It’s right, it’s really right and we should practice.” John mumbled as Bruce held out the phone again, thumb hovering over the green button that was torturing him. He slipped a third finger in and worked John into a silent screaming frenzy.

“I think we’re missing a vital piece of equipment here but I’m all for trying.” Bruce smiled and pressed the button, John needed sex like dying man needed air. He’d expire on the deck of Wayne 1 if Bruce didn’t bend him over and fuck him with a desperate need.

Bruce must have sensed how out of control he was, he put his arm under John’s legs and around his back to carry him back inside. John clung to his back, digging his finger nails into the flesh. Once safely inside they were confronted with the serving staff leaving a fruit plate in the kitchen.

“Thank you Claire, we will require no more service today. Only privacy until we dock at port.” Bruce said as he put a twitching, needy John down on the couch out of her view and kept his crotch turned away from her sight.

“Of course Mr. Wayne, good night Mr. Wayne.”

John curled into a ball of need as her soft steps made it to the door. Bruce carded his hands through his hair and said.

“There, there my love. I know. It’s almost over. You’ve been so good for me. So brave to hear me out.”

His voice was hypnotic and John sank into it. Body crying out for his touch, to be penetrated over and over until he was cumming. 

The door to the kitchenette opened and a second later it closed. The lock flipped.

Bruce kicked his sandals off and ripped his trunks clear off his body. He grabbed John by the thighs and dragged him down the couch before closing the app off his phone killing the humming vibrator. He lifted it free, glancing smugly at beads of precum, and let it drop on the intricate decorated rug below their feet. John peeled the shirt off as Bruce slid his trunks free.

“On your knees darling.” Bruce’s voice was a harsh rasp that went all the way to his bones.

John scrambled to his hands and knees pushing his ass into the air.

He heard Bruce shift onto the couch behind him and his fingers dug into the leather. Bruce ran his hands over his back side to cup and need the round fleshy globes. John pushed back against his grip shaking, panting.

“You’ll make a wonderful father.” 

Then he spread him, exposing him intimately. John blushed as the tip of his rim rod cock pushed against him and slipped in easily. The rolling waves of heat made him moan loudly as Bruce’s erection was swallowed all the way inside. He pulled back gripping his hips before shoving himself back in. John slid against the leather couch and heard him grunt from the thrust. He pushed back to encourage him.

Bruce didn’t hold back, he fucked with a need so deep John was desperate to satisfy him. Bruce hit him in that spot made his eyes bulge.

“That’s it! Come on!” John was screaming, he didn’t care who heard. Report it in the news. Grass is green, water is wet, Bruce Wayne was an amazing fuck.

Bruce grasped him by the back of his neck and pushed him into the couch, dominating him, turning him on until he felt the climax wash over him, he came mouthing _god_ into the leather until Bruce had filled him up and withdrew gently. John collapsed and Bruce shifted them until he had him wrapped in his arms from behind.

“I want that baby with you too.” John murmured tiredly. “But I want to end things with Alan on my terms, face to face as he deserves.”

Bruce heaved a long sigh. “Can I come?”

“You just did, give me a half an hour you beast.”

His massive chest moved as he chuckled. Bruce kissed his shoulder softly. “No sweetheart, can I be present for this break up?”

“No. It’s private.” John insisted turning around and tucking himself up against his body to comfort and give reassurance.

“Can I wait outside in the car?” Bruce asked, running his hand down his spine gently.

“I will allow that.” John nodded and started to drift. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“I won’t let him leave with you. I’ll never let anyone get between us again.” Bruce whispered.

“Good, I might kill them if they try.” John admitted and he felt Bruce tighten his hold on him. “Sorry poor choice of words honey.”

“Let’s do better this time around. I lost you once, I can’t do it again.” Bruce said laying his chin on his head.

“We lost each other. I promise not to do that ever again. I love you.”

Bruce titled his head up. “I love you too.” 

Alan sat in a restaurant with a high vaulted ceiling, arched windows looked out to the busy Paris streets outside. He counted down the minutes to his lunch with a feeling of growing dread.

_I’m sorry, I need to talk. _John had sent in a hurry with an address and a time he would be stopping by. After three days of silence Alan knew it wasn’t good. He knew the moment John ran away with Bruce to the villa. When he tracked them down, they had vanished yet again to the yacht. All the while he was treated to nonstop media coverage of the reconciliation of the century. Pictures, videos, and on and on it went.

John didn’t even have the courtesy to say good bye.

“Hey,” speak of the devil.

Alan didn’t get to his feet, John didn’t stoop down to kiss his cheek fleetingly. He looked as he always did. Bold as fuck and gay to the point he should be on fire. He was wearing gold eye shadow today. The deep red lipstick was to compliment the black fur wrap, bright gold mesh shirt, and the pair of simple tight black jeans. He wore ballet flats instead of sneakers. Whenever he was around Bruce, he seemed dress like a drag queen.

He took a seat across from him and crossed one leg over the other. Around him people in the restaurant were staring, a few _La Jon Jonz_ snapped photos with their phones, and he was oblivious to it all.

For once Alan had his complete attention.

“Did you even want to try with me?” Alan asked taking a sip of water. He was so damn angry and disappointed but he knew shouting at John would only summon Bruce and he would not enjoy that.

John sighed before he drummed his fingers on the table. His finger nails were painted gold. “You know it wasn’t working. We weren’t miserable but we weren’t doing that great.”

“You can’t say that when you didn’t even give us a chance.” Alan sat up straighter. “You didn’t give me a chance at all before jumping back into bed with him.”

John held up his hands and caught his eye. His green eyes were filled with sympathy but Alan was insulted by it. “That’s fair. I own that but you have to understand. He is the father to our son-”

“Adoptive.”

“-and the love of my life. Listen Alan, really listen to me, and pay close attention to what I’m about to say.” John pleaded as he caught his forearm. It was the most he had ever touched Alan without flinching.

“It wouldn’t have mattered if we carried on or if we built a home and adopted our own children.” John explained, hanging his head. “The moment he called me up for blowjob I would have tossed us aside and all we had to be on my knees before him. He wouldn’t have to take me back or promise to love me. I’m a slut for him. I would debase myself for him.”

“Just like you’re doing now.” Alan glared. He did not want to hear about John fucking Batman thank you very much.

“Touché. But here’s the thing, you deserve someone who would do the same thing.” John had this serene smile on his face. “And I hope you find him. It’s just not me.”

It was a kind thing to say but, despite what everyone thought, Alan knew John well enough to guess he was trying to assuage his own guilt by making him feel better. He would find someone else, in time but for now he had his heart set on him.

John reached into his pocket and pulled out a check. “He’s not without gratitude for all you’ve done for me and I am grateful too. You were a friend when I had no one in the world. I will remember that.” 

Alan looked at the princely sum and he saw red. He ripped up the check.

“It was never about the money.” He said dropping the pieces into his water glass. “I care about you and I hope we can be friends.”

John shifted in his seat and his eyes fell to the floor as Alan’s chest constricted.

“We can still be friends, can’t we?” Alan asked eyebrows raising to his hair line.

“Here’s the thing-”

“Oh for fucks sake.”

“-he’s uncomfortable with the idea considering you brought me here for a holiday.” John finished mouth twisting into a frown. “And I would do anything to make him secure in our relationship. Even sacrificing my friendship with you.”

“He can’t tell you who to be friends with.” Alan snorted before he crossed his arms over his chest. The big bad bat could kiss his ass if he thought this was acceptable behavior.

John twisted his large emerald encrusted wedding ring around his finger. “Alan it’s important he knows I’m committed. We’re renewing our vows in the winter.”

“Biggest mistake you could make.” Alan rolled his eyes, why couldn’t he see that?

“We’re going to try for a baby when we get back to Gotham tomorrow.”

“Aren’t you rushing things? He could do this to you again.” This was a shock. Bruce had cut John off without a thought. What the hell were they thinking using Clark’s gift to make a baby. It was a patch job on a bad relationship.

“What we do is not your concern.” John got to his feet. “It might explode, I end up right back in Arkham. I might end up on the streets without a penny to my name.”

Alan wouldn’t let that happen.

“But that will be our mess and our business. Focus on finding someone to make a mess with.” John pleaded as pushed his chair in. “I do wish that you will be as happy as I am, with the right man.”

“At least stay for a meal.” Alan offered. He still had time to take one last crack at wooing John. Persuade him to see how bad this idea was over a hot meal and away from Bruce. 

“He’s outside waiting for me.” John took out his gold aviator glasses and put them on.

“Are you kidding?” Alan’s jaw dropped. What a fucking control freak.

“He’s nervous about us talking. Convinced you’ll talk me into a better life and whisk me away.” John smiled as he glanced out the windows at the black town car waiting for him and waved. The fur slipped off a bony shoulder giving him a coy look and Alan felt the pang of longing.

“I should just to pay him back but something tells me it wouldn’t do any good.” Alan knew when it was time to let go. John had given him no hope otherwise. “I’ll still be here if the worst does come to pass.”

John sighed. “Then you will be wasting your time. Goodbye Alan. Thank you for everything.”

He walked out without a backward glance. Alan watched him go and all the promise they held left with him. The car door opened the moment he crossed through the heavy glass doors of the restaurant. He slid inside and Alan could see Bruce wrap a protective arm around his shoulders pulling him into the shadows of the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I promised smut but I never said it was any good. One more chapter to go. Thank you for reading and leaving kudos.


	13. Make Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and John have travelled a long way to get to where they are but during a Heaven Sent baby shower they might end up right back to where they were before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I'm only saying this to let people know without spoiling the story. If something truly heinous was going to happen I would update the tags and warn people. 
> 
> Also I believe in happy ever after. And smut. Badly written smut. My apologies for the chapter length and thank you for caring to keep reading, giving kudos and keeping this going. Just thank you.

1 year later

John shifted the soil over Jason’s grave. “You wouldn’t believe the fuss they’re making.”

His wide brim straw hat kept the new born safely out of the sun. Terrance ‘Terry’ Alfred Jason Wayne, snoozed strapped up against his papa in a ring sling as he worked on weeding the sunflowers covering the dirt mound. He would need all the rest he could get before the baby shower. Also known as _Bruce Wayne’s Fuck You to All Baby Showers Past and Present. _One of the swans waddled in and the handler came in shooing it out of the family mausoleum. 

“Apologies Mr. Wayne.” He bowed his head before he waved his hands to get the hissing beast back up the yard into the pool.

John watched him go vaguely amused. The swans complimented the dyed blue lotus flowers in the pool on the veranda. There were nine for the nine months little Terry had gestated.

“A fresh water pool for an entire day, plus the lily pads and lotus flowers. He _insisted, _you know how he gets when he’s fixated with something. The swans are making an awful mess of the veranda. The serving staff moved the second bar onto the grass to avoid them.” John recounted as helicopters carrying important guests flew over the estate towards the boathouse where a temporary landing pad was set up. The police helicopters had been circling the gated community all day to keep the media out. The limos had been lining up for hours outside the gate waiting for the time to begin.

A cool wind came up from the open water and John wrapped Terry in the shelter of his arms to keep him warm. He finished up weeding and sat back on his heels. This was always the sad part.

“God I wish you were here, see you next time kiddo.” He kissed his finger tips and pressed them against the marble headstone. Bruce never objected his need to go visit as long as these visits didn’t escalate or John showed signs of deep depression. He needn’t worry, as time marched on the pull was growing less. Weekly visits turned biweekly and now monthly. Jason would always be with them and John was slowly accepting his loss. Time waited for no one and life did move on.

Terry Bear helped, distracting him with late night feedings and cuddles. He did not like to be put down and put up a royal fuss when someone wasn’t carrying him around. Dick would always take him around the manor when he came into the city to see his besotted girlfriend and stayed over for Sunday night dinners. Otherwise he was firmly back in Blüdhaven. Stephanie and Tim were becoming fixtures in the mansion as Batgirl and Robin. They were Terry Bear’s favorite babysitters once he wore Alfred, Bruce and John out.

Nothing was perfect, it was imperfectly perfect. They loved Terry from the moment he emerged from the cloning chamber. Late night feedings weren’t all that bad and he was helped by the nannies and Alfred. There was plenty of help, there was too much damn help and John was getting severely fed up from slapping stranger’s hands away from his son. He could change a diaper and when he needed the break Alfred was there. If not Alfred Bruce. After the baby shower he was going to sit Bruce and Alfred down to ask that the ladies be dismissed. He swore he saw one girl sneaking around the manor. 

“Master John! I insist you return to the mansion immediately. There’s a cold front blowing in from the Atlantic.” Grandpa Alfred shouted as he briskly walked down from the house carrying a blanket. He was the most protective of them all. He moved into the room across from Terry and refused to leave until he was in school, making it terribly difficult to sneak in a sexy break. A lot less of that was happening but John couldn’t complain, Bruce reminded him of their love every day.

He felt it in the sunflowers on the kitchen counter, the pull of the covers up over his shoulders or a bottle already made for the morning feeding. There were quick kisses, lots of cuddling and stories shared over dinner at the kitchen counter. Bruce was still training hard, patrolling and giving Gotham everything he had, however there was a lack of depression to his duty. He came home and no matter how rough the night John would enfold him in his embrace along with Terry, who squealed at him making him smile.

He came back from his memories as he held the blanket up to Terry Bear to keep the chill off him. They headed up to the house.

“That charlatan of a baker is holding our baby carriage cupcakes hostage until I agree to pay double for the butter cream frosting. That hoodlum is getting a one star review and I am being _generous. _Butter cream of all things, what a phony.” Alfred sniffed.

“Remember to rate his services after the shower.” John said as he looped his arm around Alfred’s cocked elbow. “Use my account to cover the cost.”

Another big surprise was Bruce’s vow renewal gift. He put a billion into a separate bank account from their own. It was held in trust to John and John only with Terry, Dick, Stephanie and Tim as beneficiaries should the worst happen. John used it to furnish the manor and upgrade Alfred’s rooms so that he was more comfortable. He was comforted by the knowledge that he would never have to visit another pawn shop in his life to give away his rings. Even if it didn’t work out again, Bruce made sure that he had all he needed to survive.

There were times when John woke with a start dreading the sight of the Paris skyline. Bruce would run a hand through his hair and bring the bassinet over so John could fall back asleep again curled around their son. 

“I say we pay him, then sue him for punitive damages. He’s only acting this way because you are a Wayne.” Alfred looked ready to throw fisticuffs.

“We will sort it out,” John clapped him on the shoulder, “by turning Bruce on him.”

Alfred grinned. “You’re diabolical sir, someone alert the league.”

“Clark’s bloody terrified Bruce has lost his edge from being so happy all the time. He won’t worry once he sees him chew out the baker over the hostage situation with the cupcakes.”

“Are you all right John?” Bruce asked as he entered the baby’s nursery. They had decided on baby blue for the walls, dark brown furniture and a wrought iron black chandelier. Terry was currently occupying the change table. Above him, a batman mobile swung around in a slow circle, little black onyx bats glittered in the light. John had swept the VIP away from the crowd downstairs for a diaper change. Bruce walked in on him finishing up. He was careful to note that John was indeed fine and not overwhelmed. His smile was glowing with parental love, his body relaxed. Bruce’s heart swelled just looking at them together. He never imagined he could have this again.

“I’m fine honey and our little Terry Bear is good as new.” John announced. He looked amazing in his black suit jacket with white rose pattern. It matched his gold pants perfectly and the mismatched gold and black shoes. Just like Bruce he was wearing a blue satin tie, however he matched his tie with his blue shimmering eyeshadow. His red lips were pulled back in a soft smile that never seemed to leave his handsome face. Terry was in one of nine blue satin tuxedo onesies.

“Clark arrived with the leaguers.” Bruce said as he approached and put his arms around John from behind. He tickled the baby’s foot and watch his bright blue eyes light up as he smiled wiggling on his change table.

“We need to get back pronto before they run screaming from the room when the swans attack.” John smirked as he gathered the baby up against his shoulder. Bruce grabbed a receiving blanket and laid it under their son’s head.

“Did you ever think you could be this happy?” John remarked as they made their way down the hall to the party downstairs. A nanny appeared at their shoulders and Bruce glared her back. While he was thankful for their assistance he bulked at the intrusion on his privacy.

Bruce turned back to John and looped an arm around his waist. He never thought about it but if he was being truthful, he never expected to be this _deliriously_ happy. Not in a million years. “No, honestly I thought I would die miserable and alone.”

John smacked his stomach playfully.

“In all seriousness, this lifestyle doesn’t allow for this much. I sometimes wake up expecting it all to be a dream.” Bruce tried to keep the haunted look off his face but he failed. “I sometimes wake up expecting to hear him again.”

John took his hand and laced their fingers. Bruce had confessed and since then John had been monitoring him for signs that Batman was speaking to him. He remained silent and whatever had fractured Bruce’s psyche was now healed.

Suddenly Terry let out a squeal before he started to cry. Bruce patted his back.

“Is he hungry?” He asked timing his last feeding. John shook his head back and forth bouncing the little babe.

“No, he just a little gassy. He needs his soother. I’ll go back and get it from the crib.” John said kissing Terry’s temple. He swung away and started back towards the room. He called over his shoulder. “You go on ahead. We’ll join you soon enough.”

Bruce wanted to follow. Despite the manor being the safest place in Gotham he wanted to shadow them wherever they went. He had to place trust in the defenses he set up, in Alfred’s careful watch, and in John. John would never let any harm come to the baby. It was a struggle each day to put on the costume and go out, leave them behind to continue the work that Gotham needed to survive. Tim was flourishing and Stephanie was one step behind him. Things with Dick had never been better. He even took the kids out on patrol to provide them a perspective on side kick hero duty. Tiffany suspended her return trip to Paris to stay on and keep WE on track as a shareholder and member of the board. She helped Bruce as a partner and equal, they split up the shifts so he may return home early barring an emergency.

Between all of them Gotham was starting to be a safe place to live in. Terry might never have to don the mask at all. Hope was Superman’s territory but Bruce could not begrudge himself just a sliver of it.

He was smiling when he came to the main floor and was flooded by congratulations. The public face slipped on as he accepted their praise and worked the room. He looked around but he couldn’t spot Clark or Diana. Instead he only saw how much his hard work had paid off. 

The manor house was decorated with large gold crystal stars hanging from the ceiling. The banisters lined by hanging blue lights that shimmered in the afternoon sun like rolling sea waves. A large, free standing, cake made in the shape of a blue baby carriage sat in the middle of the vast foyer. It was flanked by glass baby bottles filled with expensive champagne. Behind the table was black and white photos of John, Bruce and Terry.

The soft morning light caught their smiles as they faced each other over the babe. Bruce had never known such peace. He didn’t believe he’d ever have children and yet here Terry was. Perfect, ten little fingers and toes, and a bright-eyed look that noticed everything around him.

He was so fucking proud of them. Last year he was a royal mess talking to his alter ego of all things and now, it was still a fucking mess but a whole new glorious family crazy mess that he loved.

Nothing could be better. 

“Oh thank God I found you!” Ray Palmer came rushing out from the crowd, red faced and out of breath. “Have you seen her?”

Bruce felt a cold chill crawl down his back.

“Ray what are you doing here?” Bruce asked, he had issued so few invitations to the league. Just the inner core. The Atom was not on that list and yet somehow he had wiggled past the security check point at the wall encasing the community from the rest of Gotham, pass the men at the manor door and now stood where he _shouldn’t_ be at all.

“Because Jean’s here.” Ray said gripping his shoulder hard, face twisted in shame and panic.

Bruce’s gut clinched with a familiar feeling that never really went away. He never should have let John out of his sight. He pulled away as his heart plummeted to his stomach.

“Where’s Barry?” Bruce demanded, shadow falling over his eyes. Barry could get to John faster.

“With Diana, Clark and Hal. They’re all looking for her. I think she went crazy.” Ray swallowed.

“She was crazy to begin with, this isn’t fucking news Ray!” Bruce’s loud snarl caught the attention of the crowd. Screw them, this was important. His heart was starting to thud loudly in his chest. Where the hell was John? Why hadn’t he joined Bruce in the ballroom? Where was his _family_?

Ray raked his fingers threw his hair. “I know but this was worse. She called me up when you announced the birth to ask if it was true. I’ve never heard her like that before. She was ranting and raving about your happy ever after as if she was some villain in a fairytale.”

Bruce had been living one until now. It was crashing down around his ears as visions of back alleys and dead parents kicked his anxiety up to blaring red panic.

He pivoted on his heel, he had to get to John and Terry. He got eight feet before a gun shot rang out.

The sound cast a spell on the crowd around him. They paused their talk immediately, straining their ears to be sure what they heard was actually what they thought it was. Their faces twisting in confusion until the baby started screaming.

The second booming gun shot silenced the voice.

Bruce’s heart stopped beating. 

The crowd ran, trampling the cake, knocking over the glass baby bottles as Bruce fought with all his might to slip by them for the staircase. It was as if he was fighting against a mighty current. He pushed people to the side, knocking them out of the way as security flooded the ballroom trying to locate him.

One man in a black suit with an ear piece managed to grab his wrist. “Sir we need you-”

“_Let go of me!_” Bruce hissed before he headbutted the man. He flew back dazed and Bruce escaped to the steps, he took them five at a time. Alfred emerged out of the right side of the staircase on the second floor, his face turning white when he noticed Bruce was alone.

“Master Bruce where’s-”

“In the nursery!” Bruce called over his shoulder as his feet dug into the carpet propelling him down the hallway. All the while he knew, he knew at close range Jean used two bullets. Terry wasn’t screaming anymore, he was quiet, he was fucking _silent._ There were times in the past two months Bruce would have paid for him to stop crying but he took it all back. His ears strained for the sound of noise in the room. He desperately wanted signs of a struggle taking place.

He heard nothing.

Evidence, he needed to see with his own eyes what was happening and as he rounded the nursery doorway, he clung to some vague hope that John wasn’t fighting with anyone because there was no one in the room. That the shots came from somewhere else.

His rational mind knew better. The echo of the gun fire came from the nursery.

He stepped into the room to find John hanging off the crib by his arms, a large patch of red gathering under his knees from the wound in his back. Jean was standing only a scat few feet away with a smoking barrel pointed at the crib.

Bruce remembered holding little Terry as he snuggled into his neck wanting daddy. Little face screwed up in misery when Bear Bear had to go for a wash. Playing peek a boo with the cowl. Laying in the grass under the willow tree near the boat house to escape the sun and enjoy the cool breeze coming from the water.

They barely had two months with him and he was gone.

He moved without thinking. He grabbed Jean’s wrist and snapped her arm so the bone ripped the skin, jutting out at an odd angle. Blood dripped down from the break adding to the mess in the room. This wasn’t about justice, justice was foolish boy’s dream. This was about making her hurt as much as she could humanly stand. He knew from personal experience that there was a lot a person can live through. The gun fell as she screamed in pure agony just as Alfred came into the room.

“Sir the baby!” Alfred shouted as he rushed by to the crib. Bruce couldn’t bring himself to check the linen for signs of blood. For some odd reason his mind flashed back to the moment John picked out the crib sheets. Bruce’s insides iced over as he realized John _wasn’t_ moving.

Clark blurred into the room shortly after and Bruce tossed Jean at him.

“Get her _out of my sight_. I will deal with her later.” Bruce commanded as he willed himself to ignore her, her time would come and he would bring every ounce of strength he had to pay her back for her transgressions. For the moment he dropped to his knees and wrapped John up in his arms. He was out cold, the shock from the bullet shot was setting into his body.

He took a receiving blanket off the crib and bundled it, putting pressure on the wound. He lost one member of their family. He would fight tooth and nail for the other.

“Honey wake up, come on baby, just wake up.” Bruce murmured tapping John’s face as Alfred lifted the baby from the crib. He forced himself to watch, this was his fault after all. He believed that his defenses could protect them for a good while. He thought he would have time to train Terry up to a point he could defend himself. Who the fuck shoots a defenseless child? Not even the rogues were this ruthless in their pursuit of his misery. 

To his immense shock Terry’s little chest lifted up and down, the soother in his little bow mouth moved as he sucked on it sleeping. There was no blood on his little satin tuxedo onesie.

Jean had missed.

Alfred clutched the baby to his chest, a look of profound relief as Dick came skidding into the room.

“Terry Bear? Pops?” Dick had Barry with him. Bruce forced his chaotic mind to focus on his injured husband. He was losing a lot of blood. Picking him up he handed him to Barry.

“Get him to the hospital! Dick, I need you to drive me there.” Plans, Bruce needed plans, protocols that he set up for situations just like this. He hoped his big brain could focus on using those to cover what happened in the manor house and preserve the secret identities of everyone in the room. 

“I’ll watch the baby,” Tiffany promised as a whirlwind flew out of the room, Barry ran John all the way to hospital in the blink of an eye. Stephanie and Tim walked in, and Stephanie let out a loud gasp at the blood at the foot of the crib.

Her face went white. “Is Terry-”

“Good, he’s good, just hungry.” Alfred let out a shuddering breath.

“We need to put him up for adoption.” Bruce remarked swallowing thickly. This was his fault, it was up to him to fix it. To ensure Terry’s survival he had to give him up. It was as if he was losing Jason all over again.

“What are you talking about?” Dick demanded as everyone fell silent.

“I never should have insisted we have a child. God what the hell was I _thinking_? Despite all my careful planning, my defenses, Jean Loring walked right into this nursery and nearly killed him!” Bruce was spiraling into fear and paranoia, he knew the only way to protect everyone was to push them away. They could come for him, he made peace with his end a long time ago but no one else asked for this. Most of all he had to protect Terry and the best way to do that was to get him the hell away from Gotham. Get him away from Batman.

Alfred clutched his grandchild close as if Bruce meant to rip him from his arms. “Master Bruce, this has been a trying day. Perhaps after you speak with John you will-”

“John has to know before he leaves but make no mistake _he will leave_. I can’t protect him.” Bruce admitted closing his eyes tight before he walked out of the room with Dick on his heels.

John woke up in a hospital bed and his first thought was Terry. He looked around and found Bruce in a pair of gray sweatpants and a black hoodie sitting in a plastic chair by his bedside. He looked utterly defeated and exhausted at the same time.

“Where’s our baby?” John rasped as Bruce held up a little paper cup to mouth to sip water from.

“He’s fine, no thanks to Jean Loring.” Bruce said but that didn’t explain why Terry wasn’t in the room. John figured he was keeping him out of the hospital least he pick up a bad cold. Infections in little ones so young could be worrying.

“John we need to talk.” Bruce said and John knew that look. It was the same one he had when Bane broke his back. The serious set of his lips, the restless shifting in his seat, the hunch of his shoulders. Even the tone of his voice. John braced himself.

“Dear what is it?” He cautiously asked flinging out a hand to grab onto his Bruce.

"We need to give him up for adoption.” Bruce let John’s hand fall.

“I’m sorry-_what_?” John asked as his eyebrows shot straight for his hairline. His heart stopped. This could not be happening to him. 

“Jean Loring walked right past all my defenses, all my security and shot you, she almost killed Terry.” Bruce shook his head in disgust. “I thought I was clever and strong enough to keep you both safe but I was an idiot.”

John struggled to sit up, the drugs in his system made it very hard to move but he had to sit up. He had to look Bruce in the eye and get him to see that this was crazy. He put a hand on his chin and although his hand weighed eight million pounds from the muscle relaxant, he lifted Bruce’s gaze to meet his.

“What are you talking about? Terry is fine, her shot went wide, I protected him from the rest-”

“Almost at the expanse of your life.”

“-you do no less every night you’re out there being Batman. What is this really about?” John hissed lowly turning his head to see if the door was open. Finding it firmly shut he could really go off on this insane idea. Terry Bear was theirs. He wasn’t going anywhere and John would make Bruce see reason.

“It’s about doing what’s best for him.” Bruce snarled.

“By separating him from everyone who loves him?” John challenged. “There has to be another way. Come on honey, we will figure it out.”

Bruce would not be persuaded. He got up from his seat and started for the door. “My mind is made up.”

“You have a thousand plans for a thousand scenarios. In which scenario do we keep our baby?” John spat fisting the sheet covering his lower half. Normally in these situations he could pour on the sexual mojo, bring Bruce out of the dark corners of his mind where he was lost and frightened. Once properly distracted from his angst John could work him towards a brighter outlook. Being shot by fucking Jean Loring was limiting him to begging. Bruce did not respond well to pleas of this sort when he was spiraling out of control and pushing everyone away out of fear.

Bruce took a very long aggravated breath before he turned around. His gray eyes were lined with agony. “There are other options. Number one, you divorce me and take Terry as far from Gotham as possible.”

“_Hard pass_.” Christ he was in deep with this freak out and John longed to sooth him. With just a Glock and two bullets Jean had unraveled Batman’s clear thinking. It was so simple, she went for the one thing he feared to lose more than anything else-_his family_.

“Number too, I go out there and kill every possible criminal I can get my hands on until all threats are neutralized.” He said it with such conviction that John could barely believe what he was hearing.

Drastic measure had to be taken. It was a hospital but Alfred, being the exceptional butler that he was and a dear friend to boot, would slip a scalpel under the mattress of the bed near John’s left hand while he was in residence. It was his security blanket should someone looking to settle an old score or two come looking for him when he was ‘defenseless’ and right now John need to be on the _offense_. John had no idea how long he had been out but he knew Bruce clearly isolated himself from the others to convince himself that this needed to happen. He fixated on the outcome not the consequence. If John was going to reach him, he had to antagonize him out of it.

John slipped the scalpel out and let the light catch it.

“Well then honey you might as well start with me. I was not on the side of angels when we meant. Does that mean I deserve to be put down? Because that is exactly what you are saying.”

John let the scalpel twirl around his palm until the pointed end was sitting on his wrist vein.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Bruce roared at him as he slapped it out of his hand.

“I’m _ridiculous!_ Listen to me, we are safe in Wayne Manor. Jean was a former league WAG. She was locked out of the defense system but she knew how to game it.” John’s fist pounded the dinner trolly table next to the bed to punctuate his point. “You are doing _exactly_ what she wants! I should know, she played me into leaving you for Alan!”

Bruce tossed his hands up. “I don’t know what to do John. I’m scared.”

John reined in his anger, Bruce admitting his fear was progress. With great effort he gentled his voice. “I know.”

Bruce did the same, his shoulders sagging. “What if we lose him? What if the next bullet finds him?”

John struggled to get up and swing his legs over the side of the bed. “We lose more if you let fear turn your compassion for our enemies into cruelty. Don’t let this ruin you. If you give into this, I promise you my love, you will die miserable and alone.”

Bruce crossed his arms over his chest, stubborn but willing to listen. He hadn’t stormed out of the room yet. John took that as an encouraging sign. 

“What are you doing up arguing about this in the first place? Get back in bed.” Bruce ordered. So he was going to metaphorical run. _Tough shit baby, I’m not letting you_.

John, through great personal concentration and the driving need to bring Bruce back from the brink of this insanity, managed to get to his feet. He lifted his chin.

“Make me.”

Bruce glared and John took it like a man. Normally he would be a weeping mess begging for forgiveness but if Terry was to remain with his loving fathers, he would have to put in the fight. He turned his back on Bruce’s suffering once before out shame of his own part in it. This was different. He was going to fight tooth and fucking nail to get Bruce through this and that meant being on his shit list. John wearily admitted the incredible amount of medication running rampant through his body was very helpful in that regard. 

“Get. In. Bed.” Bruce ground out each word with a stomp forward. He was spoiling for a rather loud argument. A release from all the pent-up fear and pain he endured while John was in surgery. Despite being injured John was tempted to give him one.

“Hard of hearing already in your early thirties dearest? _Make. Me_.” John popped the last two words out of his mouth, eyes hard defiance. God if only he was well enough to take Mr. Wayne for ride he would not forget. However, circumstance was against him.

“You know I’m right about Terry.” Bruce said backing off. There was a reluctance to it. He knew John was pushing but he also recognized that his husband needed time to heal. Now was not the moment to indulge in one of their screaming matches. 

“You only think you are. Terry will never be loved as he is with us. Jean was an anomaly. A one off that will never happen again. Let it go baby.” John wrapped his weak arms around Bruce and let him sag into them. It wasn’t the brawl he was looking for but it would have to do-for now. “Let it go. We can fight about it when I’m better.”

Despite aching and hurting, John didn’t even whimper when Bruce held him tightly. 

It took a week but Bruce Wayne had deconstructed his life and tossed all the happiness he had in the rubbish bin. The adoption was going through in three days. Tim and Stephanie retired from crime fighting. Dick was leaving message after message cussing him out, and little Terry was safely away from him, he hadn’t held him in six hours- a new record.

“Alfred where’s my file on the McGinnis family?” Bruce asked searching the desk in the cave. He wanted to triple check that their income would provide a safe happy home for his baby.

“Perhaps you should ask Miss Tiffany,” Al snapped his fingers, “I forgot you banished her from the manor last week. She would know where it is. Perhaps you should call her.”

Bruce levelled him a glare that made Gotham criminals pee their pants. It did nothing against the stiff upper British lip.

“Where’s the file Al?”

“I don’t care. If you don’t require me for anything of note, Master Terry needs his diaper changed. It’s a sorry state of affairs his _father_ can’t be _bothered_ to do it himself.”

Fed up Bruce got up from the work station. He ignored the slight as he made his way up the steps. It was just one of many Alfred tossed him on the daily basis now. First it was comments over dismissing the children, then the overt remarks about shouldering all the patrol territory again. Cancelling Sunday dinners despite the pleas from everyone else. Didn’t anyone understanding he was doing what was necessary?

He came out in the library and was about to make his way to the study on the first floor when the orange glow coming from outside made him race to the window. Outside John was tossing papers onto a large bonfire.

He came home five days back, they didn’t talk about what they discussed in the hospital. John tried to approach him again but Bruce, the emotional coward that he was, evaded every attempt. John was over that and he was going to take the direct approach by setting _shit on fire_.

Bruce was out the door onto the veranda to see him hold the file folder on the McGinnis family over the bonfire. At least he was using a fire pit.

“John what are you doing?” Bruce asked holding out his hand for the file.

John was wearing a black button down and matching slacks, barefoot on the tile. His hair was carelessly brushed off his narrowed green eyes. Bruce ignored the twinge of sexual arousal. This was the game they played, yelling and screaming while Bruce tired hard to ignore the way John made him feel. It wasn’t healthy to be aroused by all the anger.

John slapped the file folder against his white palm.

“Really Bruce? You’re giving our baby to a white picket fence _nuclear_ family? Please, how are these people qualified to handle Terry’s future crime fighting instincts? Justice runs strong in this family and sooner or later he’s going to take to the streets with or without your help.” John warned, mouth set in a pursed frown.

“Drop the file.” Bruce said.

John cocked an eyebrow. “Poor choice of words my love.”

He dropped it into the fire and it went up in smoke. Bruce gritted his teeth to keep a slew of swear words and insults locked down.

“I have backups.” Bruce crossed his arms over his chest.

John’s frown morphed into a vicious smile. “You mean these?”

He reached down for a duffle bag and hoisted it. He unzipped it and Bruce gave a start when he noticed John had ripped out the hard drives from the bat computer relating to the adoption and the divorce. There were so many Bruce color coded them to keep it all straight. At least the rest of the information was still on the computer. 

Bruce started forward. “Don’t you dare-”

John hurled it into the pool and it sank. Bruce whipped out his phone.

“Don’t even bother checking the cloud my dear,” he giggled, “I got to those too.”

Bruce double checked but sure enough all the information on the adoption was gone. In mere seconds John had taken all his hard efforts and pissed on them. He had shouldered so much in the last week. Dealing with losing Tim, Stephanie, Dick, Tiffany, and having Alfred up his ass about all of it. Trying to distance himself from his son when his first response was to hold him closer. None of this was easy. This attack was kicking a man when he was down and Bruce was not going to stand for it. His hair thin patience snapped and in turn so did he.

“You fucking asshole! I searched for hours to find the perfect parents to take him-” 

John tossed his hands up into the air. “We _are_ the perfect parents for hm! Why are you being stubborn about this?”

“Because he deserves to live long enough to grow up!” Bruce shouted.

“And he will! Jean is in jail, the nannies that let her in are dismissed, honey how many times do I need to tell you that we will survive. We’re not going to end up like your parents and Jason! You’re not going to lose us!” John got to the heart of the issue.

“Don’t you dare make that comparison.” Even if it was true.

John got that gleam in his green eye and Bruce knew he was screwed. _No, no don’t-_

“You want me to shut up. Then _shut me up_.”

He knew where this was headed. Terry was safely in Alfred’s care, the manor was empty. They were alone, spoiling for a fight and John knew how to drag Bruce out of his careful little mental fortress he built to keep everyone out. With just a little challenge, he pushed the dark knight beyond his infinite patience.

“I’m not playing this game.” Bruce said eyes narrowing. Of course he was going to play the game. It was theirs, it was a cathectic release and fucking fun as hell when they got to the sex. Bruce was never more alive than when they got down to it. But if he did, he ran the risk of letting John talk him into a whole lot of bad ideas.

He had to remain strong. He could handle this with decorum befitting a Wayne.

“Oh, you’re not?” John cocked an eyebrow before he raised his phone up, dialed and put it to his ear.

“What are you doing now?”

John held up a finger. “Hello Alan, about that lunch-”

Screw decorum this was war. Bruce jumped into action, he crossed the veranda tiles and snapped the phone out of John’s fingers before he dropped it on the ground and stomped it into little itty-bitty pieces. He even smeared the broken parts with his heel for good measure. _Fuck you lover._

John took him by throat in a gentle grip and his pulse sky rocketed. “You are going to pay for a new phone and say _you’re sorry_. Repeat after me baby, dearest John I’m so fucking sorry I’ve been an awful parent and even worse husband.”

Bruce clenched his jaw as his shoulders tensed. He was _sorry_ but he would be damned if he said it. It was still the best option for him and for Terry. _It was, wasn’t it? _He did not like the creeping sense of doubt rising up from his ironclad will. He had made up his mind, this was good for everyone….wasn’t it?

John didn’t care for his silence. He increased his grip on his throat, not enough to cut off the air flow but just enough to make his body come alive from the numb place he’d been sitting in since Jean Loring walked into the manor with a gun.

“Say. It. Say I’m so sorry for pushing away our eldest son, the two little ones who look at you like you’re a god, Tiffany our oldest ally, Terry’s grandfather in all but blood, your son who loves the hell out of you and me-_the fucking light of your miserable life_.” John snarled bringing his face in closer so Bruce could smell the citrus in his hair. It had been a week since it was this strong and all those poignant memories rose up reminding Bruce that he was human and a weak pathetic bastard in the face of potent sexual stimulation. 

Panic started to build. He could not give into this but the blood rushing through his veins was screaming for him too.

_ Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say-_

“Make me.”

Well shit. In a matter seconds John managed to unravel a week’s worth of isolation and planning. He trashed all those good intentions and Bruce knew by the time they were done screwing each other senseless everything would be back to normal.

The fire in his green eyes was triumphant as his smile grew ever wider.

“If you insist baby.” He even licked his lips as he switched his grip to Bruce’s tie and wound it around a fist. “Let’s take this somewhere private. I am proud of you and me but some things shouldn’t make the news.”

He should resist, put up a fight, turn cold to John’s raging heat. He did none of those things. He knew it was a pointless fight, he was aching to make sense of senseless world and the only peace he’d find was between John’s thighs. John walked backwards, like mesmerizing a wild animal he kept constant eye contact with Bruce. He dragged him inside the kitchen before moving all the way to the billiard’s room. John’s back hit the pool table's edge. His eyes flashed as he twirled them around and pushed Bruce up on it. He climbed up and straddled him, taking the lead.

This was switch up and Bruce was more than happy to see where it went. John worked the tie off his neck with nimble fingers.

Bruce swallowed thickly. “What-”

John put a finger to his lips before rolling the tie into a little ball and shoving it into his mouth.

“No more questions honey. Just lay back, grip my hips and enjoy the ride.” John whispered as he shed the black button down revealing the white skin underneath. Bruce didn’t even try to feign disinterest. He was very here for this. He ran his hands up his white chest as John worked him out of his suit jacket and shirt. They had taken their time getting to the pool table, there was a lazy energy to this seduction. However now that John was on top of him, he suddenly found urgency was rising between them. He drowned in it, diving head first into the frenzy of touch. His large hands found their way around John’s hips, his back and dipping to cup those divine round fleshy globes. John was no slouch either. Bruce clamped down on the tie when John ripped his belt off, peeled his pants and briefs down until they hung around his ankles. The moment the air hit his throbbing erection John leaned down and Bruce moaned from the white hot touch of skin against skin.

Then John dug his teeth into his neck and pushed his own pants right off his legs. He wore nothing underneath and Bruce’s hips bucked when there rubbed against each other. He retracted his teeth and swirled his tongue against the mark making Bruce’s eyes roll back into his head. They were grinding their hips in mindless need and desire. John pushed himself up and shoved Bruce’s head back into the green table top by the tie balled in his mouth. He shifted Bruce’s hard shaft between his cheeks and slid the head of his penis near the entrance. Bruce’s tip brushed the tightly coiled opening and he screamed from the slickness. His eyes caught Johns, he had prepared himself ahead of time. Various sexy scenarios ran around his imagination as John rolled his hips teasing the sensation over and over.

Bruce’s heart might give out before he was done.

He pushed himself up to roll them only to have John shove him back into the table top none too gently.

“No, you don’t deserve to have what you want. You had _everything_ you wanted this past week. I want to torture the fuck out of you so you _never _do this shit again. I don’t care if it kills me, you’ll realize my love I’m never going anywhere. You’ll never be rid of me again.”

Then he pushed the tip in. Bruce struggled, wildly bucking his hips, the hot tight clench was agony and he scrambled for more. His teeth marks might be permanently indented on the tie. John moved his hips away keeping him just where he was inside his body. He let out an agonized moan, head falling back as he shuddered.

“Oh honey, you feel incredible.”

Christ Bruce might cum alone from the whine in his voice alone. He dug into John’s ass with his nails. He was beyond rational; he should be gentle with John’s body. He didn’t even check the injury. He just felt and for the first time in a week he didn’t hold back. 

“Fuck your horny, aren’t you? Good, I like you this way.”

Then John sank down a little more, teasing him with the swivel of his hips, gasping from the motion. He still evaded Bruce’s control as he struggled to push John all the way to the root. Bruce had enough, he wasn’t out to draw it out and play. He needed to pound flesh and fuck with abandon, cling to the only real thing he ever had with anyone.

He spat the tie out definitely before he rolled them catching John off guard. John hit the table top as Bruce pushed his knees up to his chest and with the roll of his hips went balls deep.

“God yes!” John screamed nails raking at his back in ecstasy.

Bruce moved fast, rolling their hips together in a motion as old as time.

In.

“_Fuck_!”

Out.

“_Yes_!”

Over and over, as tightly coiled arousal rose pushing him to the limit of his sanity. John stopped making coherent sense, his moans were nonsensical as his head tossed with each thrust until he was shaking. Bruce picked up the pace feeling him grow harder against their stomachs. This only spurred him on to fuck them both to the climax as fast as he could.

Finally, after endlessly fucking the spot inside him, John’s mouth opened in a wordless scream of release. He flooded their stomachs while Bruce tossed his head back and flooded _him_. He creamed his insides until he was leaking out of his ass, when he pulled out gently, he drenched the pool table in a notable spot. He collapsed on top of John who tenderly wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

“How’s your bullet wound?” Bruce mumbled exhausted as he finally could form comprehensible thought.

“Fine. How’s your back?” John carded his hands through his hair as their breathing levelled out.

“Fine and if it’s not, fuck if I care right now.” Bruce laid his head down snuggled into John’s neck as he chuckled.

“Are we done?” John asked.

“We’re done.” Bruce admitted. “You win.”

“It was never about winning or losing my dear. It was about us,” John linked their fingers, “and our family. Some things are worth fighting for.”

“Feel free to fight with me like this again.” Bruce joked with a smirk.

“That was cheesy. I loved it. Say it again.” John urged kissing his nose. He glanced at the clock behind their heads.

“It’s four in the afternoon.” John muttered.

“Terry needs his four o’clock feeding.” Bruce said picking up his thought. “You need your pills.”

“Meet you in the nursery in five.” John rolled him off his body with a gentle kiss to his lips as he grabbed his pants. Bruce pulled his up wincing at the mess. He used his button up shirt to wipe it off, the pool table would have to be professionally cleaned. He would mention it to Alfred. Pulling the suit jacket back on he pulled out his phone and messaged his PA telling her that he would be working from home.

He grabbed a bottle, turned on the machine that mixed the water and the formula before testing it against his wrist. It was perfect. In five minutes he was standing in front of his little boy. Alfred cocked an eyebrow about his obvious nakedness under the suit jacket.

“Give him here grandpa.” Bruce held out his hands and Alfred handed him over with a heavy sigh of relief. Bruce sat down in the rocking chair as Alfred slipped a breast-feeding pillow under his arm. Terry sucked greedily on the bottle, wrapping his hands around Bruce’s pinky fingers.

For better or worse, come what may, Bruce would no longer push his family to the edges of his life. To do so would only leave him hallow and alone, there could no worse fate. It was out of his control if something would happen but if the worse came to pass he would carry the good memories they made for the rest of his life.

“There you two are.” John had cleaned himself off, he sat on the arm chair as Terry fed, Bruce wrapped an arm around his waist. It was quiet, serene, and perfect. He leaned his head into John’s chest and John wrapped an arm around his shoulder from behind.

“Do you think it’s too earlier for defense lessons?” Bruce asked smiling at the small little face.

“Let’s talk when he starts crawling.” John joked kissing his temple.

“Al?” Bruce asked looking up.

“Yes Master Bruce?” Alfred asked raising his eyebrows.

“Have the family gather for dinner, we missed last Sunday. Include Stephanie Brown and Timothy Drake in the invitation.” Bruce commanded pulling the bottle away and grabbing a receiving blanket to burp the baby.

“As you say sir.” Alfred started closing the door.

“Oh Al!” John called before he closed it all the way.

“Yes Master John?” Alfred tilted his head.

“Lock the door to the billiard’s room and send the pool table for cleaning please.” John went bright red and Bruce barely contained a wince. He refused to meet Alfred’s eye.

“Really sirs, again?” Alfred asked looking exasperated.

“It’s his fault.” Bruce jerked his head at John.

“This time yes, I own that. But last time was your doing Mr. Too Hot to Trot.” John muttered. Alfred’s eyes were shinning.

“Very well sirs. Dinner will be promptly at five. I shall gather the family.” With that announcement he closed the doors on the happy family.

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus the story completes. I hope this all made sense, that Bruce's motivation to do all that came from a place of trauma and loss. I reject all endings where he is alone and unloved. Batman Beyond was amazing but that fate is not for someone who fights so hard. Not in this universe. 
> 
> A few things:  
1\. Terry stopped crying because John shoved the soother in his mouth. He hoped Jean would think she had killed him.  
2\. Hal was there to sooth over any hard feelings the Green Lanterns had for the Gotham crew. Alan Scott was not invited.  
3\. I tried to write this as the first chapter but there was too much going on to see it through Clark's eyes.  
4\. Alfred, Dick, Tiffany, Tim and Stephanie had argued with Bruce until they were blue in the face about the adoption. It did no good because Bruce could only be reached by John and their crazy weird angry sex. Bruce knows how to handle John and vice versa. Is it healthy? HELL to the no but it works for them and their issues.  
5\. Ma Kent was in the first draft.  
6\. There was a scene with Jean Loring but it never played right into an already long chapter. She was irked that they got back together. She lost her friggin mind when she found out about the baby through John's instagram.  
7\. The Lullie Crib coming out of storage with Alfred was too sad to write or include. 
> 
> Anyway thanks for reading. I hoped you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

**Author's Note:**

> And the suffering begins. I hope some of you made it pass the sickening sweetness.


End file.
